


Street Beat Soliloquy

by Moira_Lathal



Series: Starlight Symphony [2]
Category: Cowboy Bebop (Anime)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Recovered Memories, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moira_Lathal/pseuds/Moira_Lathal
Summary: The peace has returned to the halls of the Bebop, if a bit turbulent as new rules and agreements are established among our ragtag crew of misfits. When echoes of the past and the consequences of rebirth begin to fester in the dark, Spike and Faye are forced to make difficult choices, whether to let down their guards and allow their secrets to see daylight or keep their dreams and hearts firmly under lock and key.Throughout all this, a new player enters the field, a fiery bird of prey with as of yet unclear intentions...(read after Return to Me, Space Cowboy)
Relationships: Spike Spiegel/Faye Valentine
Series: Starlight Symphony [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904512
Comments: 163
Kudos: 98





	1. New Normal

**Author's Note:**

> *jazz hands* it's the Arc 2 premiere, fam. 
> 
> Let's do this.

“Jet, answer the question.”

Jet’s exasperated sigh crackled over the com. _“Faye, as long as the money’s coming from your pocket and not mine, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what you do with it.”_

They hovered on the fringes of the asteroid belt, ducking between floating rocks as they waited for their quarry to arrive. Several hours out from Ganymede, this lead was a gamble to begin with. They’d spent the last day and a half here, drifting in their uncertain window of opportunity. Faye was getting antsy with all this idling, so she tried to distract herself by forcing Jet into conversation.

“It’s not about whether or not I can _afford_ it,” she insisted, dipping the Redtail slightly to align with the Hammerhead. “It’s about whether or not you think it’s a good fit!”

Jet glared forward, refusing to look aside to meet her eye. _“Could we focus on the task at hand, please?!”_

_“Well, if you ask_ **_me_ ** _\---”_

“Nobody _was_ asking you,” Faye muttered, glancing past her port turret where she knew the Bebop hid behind a particularly enormous asteroid.

_“--- I think it’s a great idea.”_

Faye and Jet blinked in surprise. “... Really?”

_“Sure,”_ Spike continued, the humor apparent in his voice. _“Between you, Ed, and Ein making a racket, we could have our very own band.”_

_“Ed thinks Faye-Faye should do it!”_

_“Besides, if it doesn’t work out, you could always use it as a weapon.”_

_“Enough,”_ Jet groaned, weaving the Hammerhead in and out of the giant floating boulders. _“Faye, do what you want with your money. Buy the fucking guitar or don’t, I don’t care, just_ **_please_ ** _keep it in your room.”_

“Why?”

_“Edward wants to learn guitar, too! Plink-plink, strum-strum, all day long!”_

Faye bit her lip. “... You may have a point there.”

_“Nyooooo, Ed wants to be a musical Edward!”_

A green light began to flash on her console, and Faye hesitantly switched to the private channel. “What do _you_ want?” she hissed, glancing back into space and trying to ignore Spike’s playful hum at it drifted through the speakers.

_“Are you actually serious about this?”_

“And why shouldn’t I be? I think I’d be _very_ good at music, no matter what _you_ or anyone says. And if you fucking say I sing off key, I’ll _throttle_ you.”

Spike failed to hide his grunt. _“What’re you going to do for lyrics, then? You’ve been so insistent that word shit isn’t your thing.”_

Faye narrowed her eyes. “... Not all music needs lyrics.”

_“Whatever you say.”_

A fresh wave of irritation arose at Spike’s chuckle. “Haven’t you ever heard of classical, dickhead? And maybe I want to learn guitar just so I can learn it.”

_“A song caught your ear?”_

“... No.”

_“Bullshit.”_

That was true, but _he_ didn’t need to know that.

“Fuck you, Spiegel,” Faye hissed. “It’s none of your business, either way.” 

_“Faye---”_

Before he could continue, Jet’s com link broke through. _“---fuckers cutting me off. Spike, get your ass outside, now! Faye, off your starboard, about fifty-seven degrees. Looks like the timing was solid; we got her.”_

A shimmering field began to form, seemingly out of thin air before their eyes. Faye nodded. “Well I’ll be damned. Spike’s intel on the dark gate was solid.”

_“Of course it was. I’m very reliable.”_

Faye and Jet snorted in unison as they took up their positions near the growing abnormality in space. The sleek nose of a Blue Marlin MONO racer appeared, slipping through the dark gate opening and drifting leisurely forward, straight towards the waiting turrets of the Redtail several meters away.

Opening a channel, Faye smirked at the surprised pilot staring back at her, a young woman with spiky blue hair and a vibrant blue space suit to match. “Hiya, Sonic Walker. You’re wanted for dark gate hopping, theft, and illegal MONO racing. Now, if you wouldn’t mind coming quietly, we’d really---”

_“I would mind, actually,"_ Walker cut in with a grin.

She tried to shoot off past Faye’s right, but Jet dropped in from behind, harpooning her left wing before she maneuvered too far. With a snarl, Walker switched tactics, risking a barrel roll through the rocky field and cutting back left. She swerved in and out of the Redtail’s fire, the powerful engines of her MONO racer dragging the Hammerhead behind her. Faye bolted after the pair, purposefully keeping her distance and pretending to be caught up in not hitting the Hammerhead on accident. She remained carefully on the Marlin's left side, cutting off any attempts to flee into open space. 

It was almost too easy, corralling the young racer around the edge of the asteroid belt towards their trap.

_“Spike, I sure as hell hope you’re in position,”_ Jet grunted, struggling to pull back as Walker tried multiple forceful tactics to jimmy the harpoon loose. “ _You weren’t kidding about this ship!”_

_“Marlins are a powerhouse racing class,”_ Spike agreed, _“but their strength comes at a cost.”_

“And that is?” 

Spike chuckled into the com. _“Powerful ship means_ **_big_ ** _ship. Big ship means easy target.”_

As they rounded the largest asteroid, the Bebop finally drifted into view. The tiny figure of Spike in his red flight suit stood magnetized to the prow, a makeshift piece of machinery easily balanced in his arms in the weightlessness of space. Faye rolled her eyes, practically able to see his grin from so far away. “Twenty to one he misses the first shot.”

_“Spi-Spi never misses! Ten-ben-eleven-men, Spike-person makes the shot in one!”_

_“Ed, get off the com! Faye, now’s really not the time for---”_

_“_ **_I’ll_ ** _take those odds,”_ Spike said, angling the launcher slightly as the trio sped ever closer.

“Come on, Jet, what’ll it be?”

  
Jet grunted into the com. _“I hate you all sometimes,”_ he muttered. _“... Make it fifteen.”_

_“Done.”_

As the Marlin nearly clipped the Bebop in her pass, Spike made his shot. A trailing projectile split into three, spiraling wildly as they zipped through space. The first two missed, sailing over the Marlin’s nose, but the third found its target, clamping easily on the barbed top fin. With a flick of the switch in Spike’s hand, the miniaturized EMP activated, and the Blue Marlin was instantly dead weight, so much metal drifting through space. Spike made a playful finger gun and targeted the Marlin.

_“Bullseye.”_

Faye and Jet joined Walker’s cursing as they circled back towards the Bebop, the Hammerhead now towing the Marlin in its wake. 

Jet switched off the group link to Walker’s ship before speaking. _“Alright, ship and bounty are secured. Spike, get---”_

_“Back in the ship and stay out of sight,”_ he cut in, waving one hand listlessly as he turned away from the approaching zipcrafts. _“I know, I know.”_

_“Don’t get smart with me, Spike.”_

_“Just trying to follow orders, pard.”_

Faye watched the red suit drift toward the bay doors, initiating the docking sequence to let the others inside before ducking in himself. She sighed, trying the private channel again as she edged the Redtail into dock. Thankfully, he accepted the call.

“Nice shot.”

_“Thanks,”_ Spike mumbled. 

Faye could hear the hint of gloom in his voice. “You okay?”

_“M’fine, it’s just... do we_ **_have_ ** _to turn in the ship?”_

Even though Spike couldn’t see her, she nodded. “Yep. Bounty isn’t fulfilled unless the pilot _and_ vessel are restored.”

_“Damn it. Coat of paint and adjusting the wings and she'd... Nevermind.”_

Faye remained in her cockpit, watching as Jet scrambled to get Walker in cuffs. She’d been smart enough not to jettison her orb to try and make a run for it, seeing how far they were from the nearest planet or terraformed asteroid. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to put up a fight against her captors. “... You wanna try that friend of yours? What’s his name… Doohan, see if he’s got anoth---”

_“There’s not another racer like the Swordfish,”_ Spike muttered. _“Besides, if I told Doohan I’d fucking_ **_lost_ ** _her, I’d have yet_ **_another_ ** _person in the universe out to get me.”_

“Spike---”

_“Let’s just get speedy on her way and be done with it.”_

With that, he cut the call, leaving Faye to frown to herself as Walker got a solid thwack in before Jet finally wrestled her into the restraints.

\----

It’d been four months since Spike’s departure and recovery from the Red Dragon attack. Four months of trials and bruised egos, yet they’d managed to reclaim something resembling normal.

It felt good to have something like normal again on the Bebop.

Lounging on the couch in the living area, Faye transferred Spike’s share of the bounty to his account, complete with the addition of hers and Jet’s promised bets. 

It was more of a formality at this point, since if he wanted to buy anything he’d have to have either of them get it for him or order through their cards, but it gave him something resembling autonomy, and Faye knew he was still struggling with the new system.

They’d managed the past two bounties this way, finding covert ways for Spike to contribute other than twiddling his thumbs or scrubbing down the hangar every two days. The EMP launcher had been Ed’s idea, and Spike had latched onto it with a passion as they’d set a course for the dark gate’s supposed exit point.

The fact remained, however, that his individual responsibility was to be the faceless member, either working from the shadows or fully concealed in his flight suit to avoid detection until they confirmed the syndicates at large were done seeking his hide.

Faye stood and wandered aimlessly towards the galley. She found Spike leaning against the counter, sipping a cup of coffee and staring into space. He nodded towards her as she passed him and poured herself a mug. Faye took a long sip before speaking.

“Hey… if you want to take the Redtail out for a spin… I think I could be convinced.”

The corner of Spike’s mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks, but the last time I borrowed your dinky ship, you nearly ripped my face off.”

“That’s because you didn’t _ask_ first,” Faye muttered.

Spike shrugged. Setting his empty mug aside, he pulled a cigarette from his pack and lit it. “I know what you’re doing, Faye,” he sighed after a pull. “One joyride isn’t going to make ‘Spike’s indefinite quarantine’ any easier.”

Faye bit her lip. An internal tug of war ensued in which she contemplated pressing him further, but her attempt at cheering him up had already proved to be a bitter miss. Before she could decide, he bumped against her shoulder. Faye glanced aside to find Spike holding out a cigarette. “Thanks for trying, though,” he mumbled, attempting a faint smile.

With a slight nod, Faye accepted the peace offering. She shuffled her lighter from her pocket, lighting up silently as she wandered out of the galley towards the living area. Spike’s light footsteps followed close behind her.

Before they reached the open room, Spike poked her in the back. “Hey. I thought of another one.”

Faye groaned, eyes darting nervously around the room to make sure no one else was listening. _Another rule._ “Can’t it wait until---”

“No guitar in my room, or after lights out. And don’t think I’m gonna want to listen all the time, I’m not big into recitals.”

“No worries there,” Faye grunted. “I wasn’t planning on asking you.”

“Edward wants to listen!” 

Faye yelped, watching helplessly as Ed hurtled down the stairs towards them. With one bounding leap, the child catapulted herself forward and clung to Faye’s waist. “Agh! Edward, get off me!” 

Ed cackled as Faye’s wriggling sent her tumbling to the floor. “Faye-Faye becoming a musical cowgirl! Sing-sing, play-play, strum-strum all day, ha ha!”

“So when are you going to order the thing?” Jet asked as he trudged down the stairs, Ein plodding at his heels.

Faye perched on the edge of the couch, suddenly very interested in the hem of her jacket. “Well… um… you see---”

“It’s already on its way.”

Faye glared as Spike settled leisurely beside her. “... How’d you know?”

He winked, curling both hands behind his head. “You weren’t asking for _permission_ , earlier. You were just asking our _opinions._ It was obvious you’d already made up your mind.”

“Hold on,” Jet interrupted, waving a hand to catch their attention. “When did you order it, then?”

“... Earlier. A couple days ago, maybe, I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“A couple days ago?” Jet repeated, his eyes narrowing. “Like when you said you were broke and _I_ had to foot the bill for refueling _your_ ship?”

Faye shrugged, holding up her nails to better catch the light. “Don’t get your boxers in a twist, I’ll pay you back soon.”

“Faye, if these new hobbies of yours are going to bleed me dry---”

“Alright, alright, I’ll transfer the money _today_ , okay?” she grumbled, ignoring Spike and Ed’s snickers as she stood. “Jeez, _someone’s_ moody.”

Faye skirted wide around Jet as he crossed his arms and glared at her. “So _when_ today are you going to pay me back?"

“Later,” she insisted, picking up the pace as she climbed the stairs. “I’ve got shit to do right now.”

“FAYE, GET BACK HERE AND PAY---”

But she was already gone, allowing herself a grin as she darted into the hall towards her room.

\----

Later that night, Faye checked her communicator for the dozenth time, awaiting confirmation from the delivery service. Finding no update, she tossed it irritably to the side. 

Faye was not a patient woman, and the natural progression of time was not doing her any favors. Another day of waiting meant another night of… uncertain echoes. Echoes she craved and dreaded in the same heartbeat.

It was getting late, but she continued to sit up, glancing every so often towards her clock. Tonight was his turn to wander over, and he was never late. If Faye ever lost her sense enough to give Spike a compliment, she’d at least deem him consistent.

Sure enough, as the clock turned to the half-hour, there were three light taps on her door.

Rule 1.2: Knock. The first of seemingly endless additions that they’d been developing for their little arrangement. Spike was not shy about barging in on others, but Faye had immediately determined this rule a necessity to retain at least _some_ of her privacy.

“Yeah, come in,” she called, crossing her arms and glaring absently at the Betamax player.

She didn’t turn as the door slid open and shut, nor did she acknowledge Spike as he remained hesitantly near the door. “... You good?”

Faye grunted. “Just turn down the light. I’m fine.”

Spike sighed and the lights dimmed. Faye continued to stare off into the semi-darkness as Spike shuffled forward and plopped down beside her. He yawned widely, shimmying under the covers.

“You wanna talk?” 

Faye glanced to the side; in the faint light, she could see Spike propped up on an elbow, his tank top a dark contrast against his skin.

Rule 1.3: Shirts on. Spike tried to slink in one night in nothing but his boxers, and Faye almost burned to a crisp insisting he put something on. It took some arguing but they compromised that the tank top counted, considering Faye’s own usual sleeping attire.

She shook her head, curling on her side facing towards the wall. “Nothing to talk about. I’m fine, really.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, in which Faye ignored the gentle rustling of Spike shifting under the sheets. Finally, she felt a gentle prod to her back. “Hey… come on, work with me, here.”

Maintaining her scowl, Faye rolled over to face him. Spike lay on his side, one arm tucked under his pillow and the other resting between them. He gave her a questioning look. “Still friends?”

Faye wanted to say no out of spite, but begrudgingly she relented with a shrug. “Still friends. I’m just… tired.”

Spike nodded, humming lightly. His fingers drummed against the mattress, and he raised a thoughtful brow. “Warm bodies or anchor?”

Faye rolled her eyes, but took his hand nonetheless. “Anchor. Your names are still dumb, by the way.”

Rule 1.4: Communicate the starting point each night. Not every sleep cycle required the physical proximity they’d needed before; they’d become familiar enough with each other, and now sleep was no longer reliant on the desperate clinging of nights gone by.

Well… not at first. Darker dreams seemed to always appear later in the night.

Spike yawned again, grinning as he settled into his pillow. “You really want me to ask you _every night_ , ‘hey Faye, wanna cuddle until we get too sweaty to breathe, or is hand holding okay---’”

Faye flicked him hard on the nose with her free hand. “Fuck you, Spiegel. Just shut up and go to sleep.”

“Yes, dear,” Spike grumbled, rubbing his nose and shooting her a glare.

Faye closed her eyes, choosing to meet the dirty look with silence. It was a few moments before she sensed him edging closer, his breath faint against her cheek. “This okay?”

Shrugging, Faye moved her forehead forward until she bumped against his. “Yeah.”

They fell naturally into silence, each breathing in the calm and settling under the weight of the day’s activities.

This was their new normal. Bicker in the daytime, bicker at night, but always eventually settling in the darkness. This new life, this way of being, still had its hitches and bumps in the road, but they were learning, and it was softer, a far more feasible way of existing.

Somehow, they’d managed to keep the peace for a while yet. Spike had grown back into himself, self-assured and aggravating but nevertheless living with them all. Faye in turn continued to push forward, both literally in time and figuratively in her creative outlets. Poetry had turned out to be a missed connection, but she wasn’t overly discouraged; it had merely invigorated her to try something else as quickly as possible. 

They were new people and yet not, learning and changing and remaining the same all at once. It was familiar, and that was enough for this ragtag crew. 

Through it all, the Bebop drifted, a strange and ridiculous and oddly comforting home in which to live. 

As Faye nodded off, she wished faintly that this gentleness could travel into her sleep, that Spike’s presence could somehow work its way into her dreams and completely stave off the visions she’d been dreading all day.

But dreams were rarely so kind, and the subconscious mind has a will of its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELCOME BACK, Y'ALL! HAPPY SEPTEMBER! This chapter is fuckin' long, but i'm valid!
> 
> This is.... a terrifying moment for me. New story, new name, new everything. First, summaries are Fucking Hard and Dumb and Lame. But I think I did okay.
> 
> Second, I have... goals. Plans. Dreams. Aspirations with this story. And now I'm actually diving into the deep end but I am READY to get this ride going.
> 
> A little bit of housekeeping! I'm currently working on Completely re-writing the first three chapters of Return to Me, Space Cowboy. Why? Because one, I wanted to change the length of the timeline a little bit. Second, and more horrifyingly, I realized. I fucked up some details. #Woops. That may just be my 'forever-in-progress' work, bc the better I get at writing, the better I want that first arc to be. I haven't finalized the chapters yet but when I DO, I will put it in the notes of a future chapter here to let you know it's coming. It won't be like, Drastic plot changes but there may be some little foreshadowing that I want to work in, and some conversations I might explore that went unsaid in the first go. Forgive me as I learn how to do the write good and better. It hard.
> 
> Now! I want to give the biggest fucking thank you to ShadowcrestNightingale for the not just help but practically Leading Role in me getting names for the bigger series and this arc in particular. Street Beat Soliloquy has been a week of thesaurus's, banging my head against a wall, and triple-guessing myself, and she was there to calmly poke my brain and give suggestions that landed me on that fucking solid name.
> 
> Starlight Symphony, the name of the larger series, is also Solidly thanks to her. This series is focused on a particular romance, but I have certain big plans that I didn't want to give away, and Shadowcrest's suggestion IMMEDIATELY struck a cord with me, and I was able to tweak it to fit my heart and the heart of this series.
> 
> One last thank you to Shadowcrest for listening to me ramble and rage as I figure out the details that need to happen for this story; your help has been invaluable and I'm so excited to finally go a little silent and let the story go without you knowing ALL the details ;D
> 
> ALSO ALSO! Another invaluable shout-out to EliorWrites for beta-reading this chapter, whacking me over the head, and letting me know I was over-thinking the length and that the flow works. Bless. I needed that.
> 
> Alright! That's all for now! Hope you liked this first little taste as we start exploring new horizons for the Bebop crew!


	2. Late Night Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faye's dreams are getting harder to hide, and Spike's not one for changing the subject.

_Water._

_It always started with the water._

_She’d always loved the water. On holidays, they’d go somewhere with water: the resort with its enormous, glistening pool, calm before anyone arrived to disturb the stillness, or the ocean, with its cascading waves and tempting riptide, threatening to pull you in too deep and rest forever in its clutches. Even at school on the gloomy days, she would gaze out into the courtyard, losing herself in the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of rain against the windows and splash against polished cement._

_Faye loved the water. It reminded her of home._

_It was happening, same as last week. Same as a couple nights ago. This dream…_

_Faye tried to fight it. The water only led to heartache, and she didn’t… she didn’t want it._

  
  
_She tried to run. She passed the memories of school, leaving her bag on her desk and ignoring the calls of her friends._

_Friends… all but long gone. Some may remain, but she was just a ghost to them. They’d lived their lives, laughing and loving and growing old, without her._

_She lived, too, but she was alone._

_The streets seemed to stretch as she fled, the roar of crashing waves only drawing closer. If it caught her, she’d drown in heartache._

_So Faye ran, down twisting alleyways and up winding staircases, unaware until it was too late that she was heading straight for where she feared._

_The hill she ran up was growing familiar, and just over the rise, she knew the gates were open, pulling her onward…_

_And then she heard it, drifting on the wind. The song._

_At first, it caressed her senses. A kind tune, full of heart and life, weaving in between lamp posts, almost tripping her as she ran. Growing in volume, it bled into the clouds, the memories of the radio in her father’s study, the jukebox at the quaint little diner they’d taken her and her friends to for her birthday._

_Her mother, revealing a rare gift in the summertime._

_Faye could see it, practically feel the soft marble beneath her fingertips. The fountain in the front drive._

**_Her_ ** _fountain._

_Her fountain, where her mother showed her for the first time the strange little tune. She remembered feeling so sad, listening to it for the first time, but her mother explained the lyrics were full of more meaning than just the initial melancholy. There was love and harmony in the tune. A promise, that they would always be there for her---_

_Faye fought back a sob as she dashed into the courtyard, turning in circles to try and find the source of the song, or anyone,_ **_anything_ ** _. It was everywhere, and yet it was nowhere; the sound was a specter in the crumbling walls and shattered foundations of her home, long gone and forgotten to have been hers at all. She stumbled to the edge of the fountain, where she knew her mother_ **_should_ ** _be, but… it was empty. Still cracked, still obliterated and just a memory._

_The decimated ruin reeked of emptiness. She was completely alone in this place._

_Crumpling to her knees, Faye clenched her eyes shut, willing the song to remain, but the notes were already fading into the growing storm clouds. It was getting colder, so cold in this empty, dismal place as she scrambled to cling to the memory, praying for even one word of the song to rise to mind, but it… just… wouldn't…_ **_stay---_ **

\----

This was not the first time Faye had awoken crying, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.

That didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Faye gasped, disoriented by a blurry world of darkness when she opened her eyes. It took a couple of seconds of thick blinking before she realized one arm was half-numb under her side, sharp needles prickling her skin and adding to her turmoil. The other was outstretched, her fingers tangled in Spike’s shirt. He’d rolled over on his back sometime in the night, and now he breathed, slow and steady and seemingly unaware of the tight grip on his shirt.

But he was there.

_She wasn’t alone._

Faye bit her lip, fighting to control her breathing as tears streamed down her cheeks. The song was already gone, but the knowledge of its existence remained, a fierce aching in her chest.

Faye buried her face in her pillow, struggling to suppress her trembling. She couldn’t deal with this right now. It was too late in the night, too much right now to think about. She had to calm down before---

“Faye?”

Spike’s hand covered hers, his thumb tentatively brushing her skin. Faye kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep, but her shoulders continued to shake as her breath caught in her throat.

“You awake, Valentine?”

Faye was unable to hold back the sob. It was small, and she half-hoped it was muffled by the pillow, but that wish was instantly dashed as Spike sighed. The mattress squeaked as he rolled over, and then his arms were around her, pulling her close to his chest. With a careful hand, he tucked her forehead into his neck, and pressed his other hand firmly against the small of her back.

“Let it out,” he murmured sleepily. “Don’t try to fight it.”

Faye hated crying. It was humiliating, and exhausting, and she always felt bloated and thirsty afterwards. It never really helped the pain go away, either; it just existed as an inconvenient reaction that she could never seem to control in the dark.

She burrowed into his embrace, the whimpers breaking through her guard as she clutched his shirt. 

Faye tried to center herself, breathing him in and focusing on his arms holding her close. Stale cigarette smoke clung to his shirt and his hair, combined with a strange freshness that always seemed to linger on his skin. A cleanliness that should seem so uncharacteristic yet felt so natural in the same breath. Spike’s arms around her slowly drove away the shivering, his warmth a powerful weapon against her tears. 

It took a long time for her breathing to settle. When it did, Faye’s fingers eased their grip, but she refused to shift away. The pain remained, dull but ever present in the dark.

Spike’s breathing gradually slowed as well, and his hand relaxed until it was a limp weight against her back. With one last sniffle, she eased her arm around his side, forcing her eyes shut and her mind to fall blank. His embrace had done its job, and it continued to soothe her as she drifted off.

Faye could almost forget the nagging memory of the song, just out of reach as she fell asleep.

Almost, but not quite.

\----

Spike was gone before she woke up again, this time for good. That was the rule: last to bed, first to rise. It felt a little silly, sneaking around, but they agreed that no amount of explaining would convince Jet that what they were doing was a whole lot of nothing. Neither wanted to even imagine that kind of humiliation.

Faye half-wished the rule wasn’t necessary, as she hugged the pillow he’d used to her chest. 

Still warm. He’d left only a little while ago. The scent of his hair lingered on the pillowcase.

Her cheeks felt tight from her late-night crying, her mouth dry and cottony from lack of moisture. The lonely feeling was numbed, and she was able to push it down even further as she clung a little tighter to the pillow.

There was no reason to feel so lonely. They were all here, together. The past was in the past. Let it go and move forward.

Faye eventually released the pillow and struggled upright, shuffling out into the hall. She tried to rub the last of the sleep from her eyes, but it did nothing to ease her dehydration headache. 

The Bebop was blissfully quiet, this early in the morning. In the galley, there was a fresh pot of coffee already waiting for her. Spike's morning ritual had continued past its necessity, and on this particularly miserable morning, Faye couldn't be more grateful as the warm liquid brought the life back to her fingers.

No one interrupted her morning mug. Another mercy. Faye hoped faintly that she could avoid contact entirely this morning, or at least long enough to rinse the night’s misery from her skin. She’d just reached the shower room door, and was about to escape into its safety, when a cough stopped her in her tracks.

“Yo.”

Wincing, Faye slowly spun toward the voice. Spike leaned against the wall, arms crossed across his bare chest. A towel was wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp from the shower.

“Morning,” Faye mumbled, casually attempting to meet his gaze.

Spike’s eyes narrowed in the silence. After a moment, Faye turned away, pretending to study her nails instead of acknowledging the piercing look he was giving her. “Can I help you with something, Spike?”

“We need to talk.”

Faye rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to bite her lip. “Don’t worry, I already added the _guitar_ rule---”

“That’s not what I meant. You were awake, weren’t you?”

“... Don't know what you’re talking about.”

Spike’s sigh sent a nervous shiver down Faye’s spine. _Not now. Please not now_. She tried to switch gears, before he had a chance to press further. “I've been thinking; how do you know so much about the dark gates, anyway? We’ve dealt with them in the past, but you’ve never said _how_ you know them. You seemed to know an awful lot about that zipcraft of Walker’s, too---”

“You learn a lot, being in a syndicate,” he grumbled. “And you’re changing the subject.”

Faye shrugged, still avoiding his eyes. “Subject’s already changed. Were you that big a deal in the syndicate to learn a lot about dark gates?”

“... Not all points; you need a map or something similar to know most of their locations. That particular gate… we got lucky. I’ve got history.”

“Ooh, sounds intriguing---”

“Faye.”

The edge in Spike’s voice cut her teasing short. Faye glanced towards him, surprised at the cold frown he was trying and failing to school from his features. Spike continued to search her face, the purse of his lips and determined gaze threatening to crumble her stubborn defenses. 

Finally, he sighed and closed his eyes. “Are we going to talk about last night or not?”

“Are _you_ willing to answer my questions about your gate history?” Faye countered, cocking a hip defiantly.

Spike took a controlled breath and opened his eyes to a half-lidded glare. He said nothing. Faye shrugged as she turned sharply into the shower room. “I thought so. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got the unfortunate task of finding out whether you’ve taken all the hot water again or not.”

Faye quickly closed the door behind her, forcing deep breaths as her heart pounded. She shook her head, pressing her hands firmly against the door and willing her trembling to subside.

She’d escaped the question, for now. He didn’t need to know.

She wasn’t ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck yeah, two chapters in two days! Slowly, the Juicy Bits are emerging of what's going on in their heads. Had a couple of bumps getting this one finished, in the form of writing conversation bits and an entire scene that are Far Later Than The Right Now (*glares pointedly at my writing beast who can't keep focus for like TWO SECONDS APPARENTLY*), but I FINALLY got a breakthrough outlining last night and then the chapter was a breeze from there :D
> 
> I spent a lot of last arc exploring Spike's nightmares, but let me know you I have some sadistic eagerness in getting to the core of Faye's fears. That opening sequence is all based around when Faye gets her memories back in Hard Luck Woman; of course I had to... add some little pieces of my own ;)
> 
> I'M SO FUCKING EXCITED, Y'ALL! I GOT PLANS! HELL YEAH! Thank you so much for reading, welcome again to the second arc, and let me know what you think in the comments!


	3. Earth Girls Are(n't) Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Spike, rule two was proving difficult to navigate patiently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *softly* Hello. I'm back. I'm here. Here we go. 
> 
> HOUSEKEEPING: BEFORE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER, go reread the first three chapters of Return to Me, Space Cowboy. I completely rewrote them, and they're way better now! But some details Have Definitely Changed, and they affect this chapter. Not HUGE, trust me, but... the rescue needed a Refurb, and I wanted to try my hand at a teeny bit of foreshadowing. Everyone still gets to the same place by chapter four, but I fixed certain details that had been bugging me, which you can read about in the notes for the chapters ;)
> 
> Other than that, welcome back, thank you for your patience, and enjoy! However much difficulty I had with this chapter, there are some Beats in here that... I needed. And when I got to them, my heart Yeeted itself out the window.
> 
> Update 9/22: Hello! Just popping in to say this work is NOT ABANDONED, DO NOT PANIC! You and I both got used to really quick updates, but the plotting part of the plotting has managed to link arms with a Violent writer's block, and I've been suffering through it the past two weeks :( Don't worry, it'll end eventually, but for now I've been giving myself a little hiatus room to just exist and let the story not become a chore rather than the fun that it's been. I hope to have a new chapter up October 1st (that's the goal, anyway). Thanks for your patience and AGAIN! NOT ABANDONED! DON'T PANIC!

“Spike, are you listening to me?”

Spike blew a thick cloud of smoke, raising his eyes half-heartedly from the shogi board. Jet studied him, arms crossed and expression fixed in a tight-lipped frown. Rolling his shoulders wearily, Spike shifted his arms on the back of his chair. “It’s your move, pard.”

“No it’s not. I moved my knight while you were staring into space. Are you alright?

Grunting, Spike plucked a rook from the board and made his move, before swiveling to glare out the bridge’s circular windows. “ _Now_ it’s your move. And yes, I’m fine _._ ”

Spike wasn’t particularly fine. He wasn’t _terrible_ , but he certainly wasn’t fine. Agitated on the brink of frustration would have been a more accurate description.

He’d tried waiting. He’d _tried_ but she wasn’t budging. 

Her dreams were getting worse, and rule two was proving difficult to navigate patiently.

The restless night flitted through Spike’s mind as his eyes wandered the Ganymede bay. She’d been fully conscious this time, he was sure of it, but the tremors took so long to subside that he’d dozed before he’d been able to ask what it was about.

Their tense confrontation that morning had only confirmed his suspicions, but she’d dodged his questions and insisted on poking back into his business. His business which was far more raw than she could have realized.

The recent hunt had dug into a piece of his past he’d managed to keep from resurfacing… until last night. Faye hadn’t been the only one abruptly awakened in the dark; the difference between them was that Spike was a lighter sleeper. When his eyes snapped open, hers remained closed, fingers resting on his arm and that damned little snore indicating her continued deep sleep. He’d listened to her a while, letting her breathing draw his focus as his dreams threatened to resurface. They were long-abandoned memories, memories he’d rather release into space than drudge up in the darkness.

_Talk about our shit… Damn it, Faye, if only it was that easy._

_… Maybe I was a little blunt this morning... but talking was_ **_her_ ** _idea, why should I have to start with **my**_ _past---_

“Alright, spit it out.”

Spike’s gaze remained on the water. “What?”

“The last time you made that face, I had to lock you and Faye in storage. I’d prefer not to have a repeat---” 

Spike shrugged off the biting reminder. “Nothing’s up with us, Jet. Really.”

“Why does that not convince me?” Jet asked, his gruff voice shifting slightly to a growl. 

“Look, I got up on the wrong side of the bed or something, alright? Back off.”

Dropping his depleted cigarette in the can he’d been using as an ashtray, Spike dug into his pocket for another. He was well aware of Jet’s stubbornly searching eyes as he lit it in silence. After the first drag, Spike’s shoulders drooped. “Shit… look, I’m not trying to start anything. I think I’ve just been cooped up too long.”

Jet sighed, his metal fingers absently drumming against the console. “... I know.”

“Why’re we staying so long on Ganymede?” Spike asked softly, his eyes meandering over the sparkling waves to the nearby floating cities that made up the terraformed satellite. “You got business other than that bounty?”

“I’m waiting for a message from the doc,” Jet replied, the game forgotten as he leaned heavily on the charting table. “The pod’s time is up, but I’m not risking a hop back to Mars without the all-clear, even if it _does_ take us a couple of days to rendezvous.”

Spike turned his chair back to face the table, raising an hand to rest his chin in his palm. “Why’re you so determined to return the damn thing? Can’t we just dump it? It’s not like I’ve actually _needed_ it for a while.”

“I made an agreement, and I plan to stick to it. I don’t want any loose ends with this thing. Besides, he still might return the deposit, even though the pod crashed so many times and you haven’t been in it in a month and a half---”

Spike snorted. “Deposit?”

Grunting, Jet slowly stood and wandered to the front of the bridge. “... Yeah. Fifteen million woolong back, if we give him the pod with whatever data it stored off of you healing.”

“Only fifteen mil?” Spike grinned around his cigarette, following Jet with his eyes. “Would’ve hoped my bounty might be a _little_ higher---”

“That’s what I get _back_ , not what we paid.” Jet stiffened as he gazed out across the water. “The original cost was fifty million, but that was more than Faye and I had as it was, and I needed to repair the Bebop if we were going to actually get your bleeding carcass off Mars before some more fucking syndicate shitheads came knocking.”

When Jet turned, the weariness in his face struck Spike to his core. Jet fixed him with a hard look. “I shouldn’t have had to put a price on your life, Spike.”

Spike’s eyes dropped to the floor. Turning back to the glass, Jet rested his arm heavily against the metal framing. “... Don’t ever make me do that again.”

Pushing away from the charting table, Spike shuffled forward until they stood shoulder to shoulder by the window. He dug a cigarette from his pack and held it out wordlessly. Jet accepted it, lighting it in the silence that followed. 

Spike’s thoughts drifted to those first weeks, those barely memories of reawakening. There wasn’t much, just snippets of moments where he felt like he remembered their faces, shifting in and out of focus. When he’d regained his strength enough, he’d checked the date and made an estimate to how much time he’d been down. Three weeks, give or take. A record, even for him.

They hadn’t talked about it, but Spike could just recall the fatigue he’d seen in their faces, though it quickly faded as he got stronger. How much more tired had they been, before he regained consciousness?

Spike glanced to the side. “How did you manage it?”

“Manage what?” Jet mumbled, keeping his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“How’d you pull me from the tower? You still had a hole in your leg, as I recall.”

“... What are you talking about?”

Spike smirked as visuals rose to his mind. “Come on, Jet. Did you tie Faye to the Hammerhead to lend a hand, or were we a snug bunch in th---”

“She didn’t tell you?”

There was an unsteady silence. Jet stared at him, eyes heavy with what looked like, if Spike didn’t know any better… shame. After a moment, Jet turned away and hung his head. “Faye went after you by herself, Spike. I… I could barely hobble around the Bebop, and I’d just about made peace with letting you go, but you know how stubborn she is. She stole the Hammerhead and bolted. Just about ran herself into the ground that night, keeping you alive. Don’t get me wrong, I… I didn’t _want_ to lose you, but… she was on her own, for the most part. Pulled you out of the tower, got you to the doc, brought you back… everything.”

… _Shit._

Spike took a deep drag, burying his hands in his pockets and turning his gaze towards the stairs. 

“... She really didn’t tell you?”

Spike raised a shoulder listlessly, eyes still fixed on the path leading back to his ongoing problem. “Guess not.”

With a sigh, Jet shuffled away and dropped into the pilot’s seat. “I’m going to try the doc again. I think Ed’s outside fishing; check if she’s caught anything, will yah?”

Spike nodded, shoulders hunched as he vacated the bridge. A thought struck him as he reached the stairs, one last mystery he’d been too hesitant to ask about. _Oh, to hell with it._ “Hey, Jet?”  
  
“Yeah?”

“Why’d Ed _really_ come back? I never… got that story, either.”

From where he stood at the edge of the stairs, Spike could see Jet’s shoulders sag. He didn’t turn when he spoke. “Her father died. Some meteorite accident or something… she didn’t give me all the details. But we’re all she’s got now, as far as I can figure. Now get the hell off my bridge. And if there’s any lingering gaps you think you need to fill in your memory… now might be a good time to fucking fill them.”

\----

Jet’s words were an unwelcome companion as Spike made his way towards the hangar, the new information taking its time to fully process as he walked.

He should have known. Jet was barely able to walk, he remembered that. Of the two of them, Faye _would_ be the one to fly headlong to his rescue, but… why hadn’t she said anything? Why keep it a secret, instead of turning it on him at some opportune moment to win an exchange? That was her way, after all... At least, it _had_ been.

And Ed. He’d been right, there _was_ something up. That something was that she was an orphan now, good and proper. _That_ was something he could understand, if a bit somberly. A meteorite accident, huh?... Did she see it happen?

Why hadn’t Faye _told_ him? Did she think he already knew? He’d thanked her for saving his life, but he’d just considered her a piece of the story, not the whole damn puzzle of his rescue… Was that why she wouldn’t talk to him?

An orphan. Spike had figured something like that, wordlessly assumed it until they’d abruptly met Ed’s father on that wild goose hunt. It was one thing to wander without much knowledge of your parents; it was something else entirely to have that life ripped out from under you the very instant you got it back.

Back and forth, Spike’s thoughts bounced from Faye to Ed, a hopeless tennis match between the weird kid and the woman with an attitude who kept digging under his skin. Two Earth girls with broken pasts he, as of yet, couldn’t fucking help with.

He barely caught himself from walking straight out the hangar doors, wide open to the afternoon sun. Yet another voice returned to his mind as he peered around the hangar; after all, Jet had insisted on his own set of rules.

_“Don’t take any chances when we’re docked, Spike. You’ll need to get some air once in a while to stay sane, I get it, but stay on the Bebop, and keep your face covered. I don’t care_ **_what_ ** _you do, just make sure you make yourself a little unrecognizable. Don’t attract attention, don’t be seen, and for fuck’s sake, do something about the hair. I swear, that mop of yours can be seen a mile away.”_

Spike rolled his eyes as he shrugged off his jacket, pulling a clean rag from Jet’s tool kit and tying it over his mouth and nose. After a moment’s thought, he dug through the kit until he found a loose string, just long enough to hold his hair in a low ponytail.

It wasn’t much of a disguise, but he wasn’t really in the mood for much else, and he hadn’t seen many boats in the bay, anyway. This was more for Jet’s benefit, if he happened to glare out the bridge’s window to keep an eye on him.

After one last half-assed self-check, Spike wandered out of the hangar, eyeing a sailboat several miles in front of them. 

_Yeah, right; a_ **_huge_ ** _threat, being seen out here._

It didn’t take him long to spot Ed, sprawled near the prow with her fishing pole on one side and Ein curled the other. A bucket lay nearby, tipped on its side.

_No fish, then._

Spike took his time, crossing the deck. It was a pleasant day out, and he had no real eagerness to return indoors. As he approached, Ein yawned and blinked thickly up at him. The corgi squinted his eyes, before stretching leisurely and curling closer to Ed’s side. Spike sat heavily beside them, taking up the fishing rod and dropping the line into the water. 

He sat for some time, watching the gentle lap of waves against the side of the Bebop and the occasional dip of the line’s bobber under the water. The peace was a relief, just the breeze on his neck and the quiet sounds of Ed and Ein sleeping to keep him company.

_No broken rules to think about for two fucking seconds._

The gentle sound of whimpering caught Spike’s attention. He glanced towards the sleeping pair. “Ein, shut up, Ed’s still---”

Spike’s eyes widened; Ein wasn’t making the sound. The corgi was currently pressed against Ed’s back, ears flat against his neck. She’d rolled onto her side, and she trembled in her sleep, her eyes roving behind closed lids. With a low whine, Ein circled to her front and squirmed under her arm, resting his snout gently next to her face. Ed’s thin arm tensed, pulling Ein close as she buried her face in his fur. She clawed limply at the deck, mumbling incoherently.

Shifting the fishing pole, Spike reached out a hand, tentatively placing it over Ed’s fingers. She flinched under the touch, but didn’t pull away. Between Ein’s breathing and Spike’s gentle grip, the trembling began to subside. Finally, she rolled over, stilted breathing mixing with a wide yawn as her eyes opened blearily. Spike’s hand quickly retreated, returning to the line still as of yet untouched by sea life.

“Mmmmm, Spike’s a bandit,” Ed mumbled, yawning again before wriggling each limb awake. “Have you stolen all my fishies?”

“No fish to steal, kid,” Spike grunted, keeping his eyes resolutely fixed on the floating bobber.

“Nyooo, Edward must have dreamed of the fishies. I caught a _whole_ bunch, I’m sure of it!”

Spike risked a half-lidded glance; Ed faced outward, rocking gently from side to side and peering into the water. Sniffing quietly, she looked away, falling into a hum as she rubbed her hands quickly over her eyes. Ein dug his snout under her arm, a low whine muffled as he burrowed against her shirt.

“... Hey, Ed?”

“Nya?”

“You… sure that’s what you were dreaming about?”

Ed sprawled on her back, throwing her legs high in the air with a snort. She held Ein over her head, giggling as he huffed in surprise. “Of course I am! Dozens of fishies, all hopping into my bucket to become yummy munchies!”

Spike scratched at the cloth tied over his face. “... Right.”

“Oooooh, Ed understands now. Spike-person is a nosey bandit today. Faye-Faye was complaining about you, earlier.”

“Wait, what?” 

“Mhm! Naughty Spike, always poking into Faye-Faye’s business like an elephant! ALL nosey-nosey!”

Spike turned sharply, glaring at Ed as she set Ein down with a laugh. “Well, it was _her_ idea… never mind.”

“Ooh la la, is Spike-person keeping secrets too?”

“What? No!” Spike tossed the fishing rod aside, struggling to his feet and trying to ignore Ed’s delighted laughter at his expense. He shifted his glare to Ein, who stared at him with narrowed eyes, head tilted to one side. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Ein huffed, and Spike was just about determined to start an argument with a dog when the corgi’s ears suddenly lifted. Seconds later, the approaching sound of an airborne vehicle turned Spike’s head. A delivery drone with a white rabbit emblazoned on the side sped towards the Bebop, until it came to a stuttering landing on the deck. Cautiously, Spike approached the drone. A large, oddly shaped package was attached to its underside; the monitor relaying information flashed with confirmation of delivery for one Faye Valentine.

“Guitar for Faye-Faye, it _must_ be!” Ed wooped, bounding around the delivery drone. She spun to face Spike, a thoughtful twinkle in her eyes. “I’ll bet if Spike paid the COD charges, Faye-Faye might forgive the nosey-pokiiiing.”

Spike narrowed his eyes, glancing from the drone back to Ed’s wide grin. Inwardly, he groaned.

She was right, damn it. What better way to get back in Faye’s good graces than to hand-deliver her new hobby? 

Her new hobby… fueled by dreams, he was sure of it.

Spike grimaced, before glancing towards the window to the bridge. Jet was nowhere in sight, still trying to get a call through to the doc.

He wasn’t really supposed to use his card directly… but one payment couldn’t possibly do any harm, especially just for COD charges. He could always have Ed fix the outernet trail later, anyway.

Spike paid the charges and lowered the package carefully to the Bebop’s deck.

_She’d better fucking appreciate this._

As he tore open the packaging, Spike glanced over his shoulder; Ed and Ein had returned to fishing, the child playfully copying the sounds of the delivery drone as it flew away.

There was no easy way to do this, not with either of them. Being direct wasn’t working; he was too impatient for subtlety and they fought back against his forwardness.

Why did he have to care so much about their problems, anyway? Why did it bother him, seeing them in pain and not being able to do a damn thing about it?

One last grunt and the package was open; inside, a sleek black guitar case stared back at him, glinting shiny and new in the sunlight. Over his shoulder, Ed hummed into the wind.

… They’d looked for him, and waited without judgement in his moments of weakness. Reached out firm hands and held him close and helped him breathe. It was merely an eye for an eye, so to speak, to fight against their demons.

… And damn it, he cared.

“Yo, Ed. If you dream up any more fish… don’t hog them to yourself. It’ll make you sick if you eat too much.”

Spike was rewarded with a giggle as he slumped towards the hangar, the guitar case gripped firmly in one hand.

_Fuck it. Maybe it's time to give subtlety a try._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That title is taken from Ask DNA, the opening credits song from the Cowboy Bebop movie. I had the title as Soon as i got a general feel for where this chapter needed to be, and i'm a Genius for it.
> 
> This chapter has been a Struggle, fam. Of course until Last Night, when i decided "hey, i wonder what would happen if i just Roughly Outlined what needs to happen before actually writing it?" and then it basically wrote itself and man there is nothing more annoying than learning that Outlining? It helps you write. *shocked pikachu face*
> 
> The reason this chapter took So Long, in addition, is of course because of those brutal rewrites of the first three chapters, but I felt the story as a whole REALLY needed it. And then, when I realized it was Just Faye who got him out, I kinda wondered if she'd told him, and I came to the rather wonderful (and painful) conclusion that... she didn't. Maybe it was author working shit and not thinking that far ahead at first, but honestly? Where she is in this story, I firmly believe she chose not to tell him. And now poor Spike knows. Muwahaha :D
> 
> Also when the fucking elephant line popped into my head, I fucking died laughing. That was all Ed, speaking through me ;D 
> 
> I got so used to posting like, a chapter every other day that taking a WEEK to get this out made me cringe, but then I remembered.... I rewrote three chapters. In two and a half days. And then had to write this one as well. Why am I not more patient with myself, it's Okay To Take Your Time. If i say that enough i might believe it ;D
> 
> Thanks for reading (and waiting); let me know what you think in the comments! Writing is fun, even if it is a curse sometimes ;)


	4. Foot in Mouth Syndrome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike attempts 'subtlety.'
> 
> He tries. He really does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to ShadowcrestNightingale and Ookaookaooka for beta-reading! Seriously bless you both, I struggled and your words were Needed.
> 
> I know I said I was taking a break until October 1st, but surprise motherfuckers, yah girl is back.

The case seemed to grow heavier in his hand as Spike wandered the Bebop. He peered cautiously around each corner, throwing around ideas and hoping fervently Faye didn’t appear until he’d landed on the right tactic to make peace.

_Where do I find her? I can’t go to her room, she’d kill me. Stopping her at the shower was a mistake, that’s for certain; it was too early, too vulnerable. Subtlety, think subtlety. Do I pretend this morning never happened? That might be best for now, unless she gets pissed that I’m playing stupid. God, how do I even start a conversation with her?_

A thought struck him; Spike glanced down, switching the case to his other hand.

_Start with the guitar. Simple enough. Don’t mention this morning, just give her the guitar. This is basically like giving her a gift, and Faye’s favorite thing is getting shit for free._

_It means a lot to her, so show interest. But… probably not too much interest, she’ll get suspicious. But if I don’t show_ **_enough_ ** _interest, she’ll fucking pout about it. Alright, just show some interest. I can tell her I paid--- wait. Shit. If I tell her before I get Ed to wipe the charges, she’ll kill me. Tell her tonight, then. Tell her tonight and broach the… but then she might see it as a play for sympathy. She_ **_would_ ** _turn thoughtfulness into a ruse. Damn it, women are fucking impossible!_

Groaning, Spike tugged open the hatch to the living room, ducking through the opening and barely keeping the case from colliding with the wall. Casting his eyes across the room, he froze on the landing; Faye lounged on the couch with her back to him, reading a book. She looked relaxed enough, idly turning a page and not acknowledging his presence.

_Of course she took the couch--- fuck. Just let it be._

Spike slumped down the stairs, lifting the case slightly to keep it from bumping against the steps.

_Just give her the guitar and leave. Wait… no. I’ve got to stay. I’ve got to show I care_ **_now_ ** _. I’m here. I’ve got to be._

_Exist in the same room without fighting or being an asshole. I can do that._

Slowly, Spike approached the couch, searching Faye’s face in the uncomfortable silence. She continued to ignore him, but her eyes weren’t moving across the page. Spike waited, digging his hand in his pocket to hide its agitated twitching. When she continued to say nothing, he grunted, nudging the couch hard with his foot. Faye’s shoulders visibly tensed.

_Alright, I can exist in the same room without_ **_fighting_ ** _with her, at least._

“What do you want?” Faye asked, keeping her eyes lowered.

“Delivery from a little white rabbit for Poker Alice,” Spike muttered, setting the case carefully across the table.

He buried his other hand in his pocket, settling heavily in the armchair across from her. Faye stared at the case, her mouth hanging open in surprise. Excitement flashed in her eyes, and she hurriedly dog-eared her book before scrambling with the case’s clasps. She was about to tug open the lid, when she hesitated and finally raised her eyes to meet Spike’s. Her attempt at a grateful smile looked more like a grimace. “Thanks… I guess.”

Spike shrugged, shuffling his pack from his pocket. 

_So far, so good._

He lit a cigarette, watching silently as Faye opened the case and stared at awe at the guitar inside. She lifted it gingerly, and Spike got his first glimpse of the mystery instrument. It practically glittered, its clean and glossy finish a stark contrast to the grungy Bebop living room. The back’s center was a soft, light wood that faded into a fiery orange-red, before darkening into the glossy black that encompassed most of the instrument. When she turned it, the front matched, with shiny strings held taught over an obsidian opening.

“It’s called a sunburst finish,” Faye mumbled. “It… it just felt like the right one.”

She set it across her knee, eyes roving the instrument as she poked hesitantly at the strings. Spike’s eyes drifted between Faye and the guitar. Her curiosity and eagerness was obvious; he couldn’t think of a time she’d shown such excitement in this way. The Faye he had experience with knew how to have a good time, but… this was different. Softer, almost fragile in its newness, but not breakable. Just… new. By the light in her eyes, Spike could only assume it was a good new. Much to his own surprise, Spike had to bite back a smile.

_Good for you, Valentine._

After a moment, Faye reached into the case and pulled out an instruction booklet, apparently forgetting Spike watching her.

_At least she’s not actively angry at me anymore. A sunburst finish, huh? ‘It just felt like the right one’? There’s got to be something there, I could--- fuck no, that’s bait for disaster, if I’ve ever seen one. Let her say something first, or… no, my gut says I should start. But with what?_

Spike took a deep drag, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched Faye flip through the booklet. Her brows furrowed slightly. 

_There. An opening_ . _Show that I care. Subtlety._

“What’s wrong?” Spike asked, attempting to keep his voice casual.

She continued to scour the pages without looking up. “Guitars are… complicated.”

“You thought this was going to be _easy_?”

That earned a glare. Faye huffed, lifting the booklet to block her face from view. 

_Damn it. Of course it’s not going to be easy, but she wouldn’t want to hear that… Well, what_ **_does_ ** _she want to hear? Think… she asked Jet what he thought, if it was a ‘good fit’--- wait. A good fit? No… read between the lines. She was asking if he thought she could actually learn it. Not opinion. Faith in her abilities._

“... This matters a lot to you. Right?”

Faye kept the booklet raised. “Yes.”

Leaning back in his chair, Spike curled his arms behind his head. “Then… you’ll pick it up just fine. You’ll do good.”

He watched the smoke from his cigarette drift towards the fan, listening as the shuffling of paper faltered. 

“Is that all you had to say?” 

Spike glanced down; Faye glared over the booklet, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Yeah,” he mumbled after a moment. “Have... anything to say yourself?”

Faye bit her lip. “No.”

Spike’s eyes returned to the fan. Inwardly, he held back an impatient curse. “... Alright. That’s… okay, then.”

The sound of heavy footsteps drifted down from the bridge, abruptly shifting the mood. Spike wasn’t sure whether to sigh with relief or groan as he watched Jet trudge down the stairs, his expression carrying all the shine of a night on Callisto. “No luck with the doc?”

“Or that dickhead from the clinic,” Jet sighed, leaning wearily against the back of the armchair. “I’ll sleep a lot sounder when they take that damn pod back--- hey, the guitar’s here!”

Faye nodded, absently fiddling with a tiny red guitar pick. “Yeah, _finally_.”

“Beautiful instrument. Never seen anything quite like that.”

“It’s late twentieth-century ‘vintage.’ I don’t know why they stopped making them, it was always... my favorite.”

Spike lifted his head, half-lidding his eyes as Faye hurriedly flipped open the booklet again.

_She hesitated. Maybe it’s time to give a little nudge._

“Nostalgic, Valentine?”

Faye tensed; Spike barely caught the panic in her eyes. Before she could respond, however, the hatch opened again and Ed tumbled onto the landing, followed close behind by Ein. “Ed wants to see the guitar, Faye-Faye!”

“Edward, be careful!” Faye yelped, holding the guitar quickly over her head as Ed scrambled onto the couch. “This cost a lot of money, and _you_ don’t have any to pay for it if it gets broken!”

“Neither do you, apparently,” Jet muttered.

Spike grinned. “She ever pay you back?”

“Hard to tell; with all the swaps we’ve been doing, my account is a mess.”

Spike opened his mouth to reply, when a disastrous cacophony of sound filled the air. The screeching of strings grated violently, and all present with hands covered their ears in surprise. Ed yelped, tumbling off the couch and scrambling away. Ein bolted fast down the hall. Still with their hands clamped over their ears, Spike and Jet glared at Faye as she hurriedly clamped a hand over the guitar strings. “What the hell, Faye?”

“I didn’t think it was going to be so _loud_ , alright?!”

Ed rushed behind the armchair, peering over Spike’s shoulder with a hiss. “Faye-Faye’s trying to kill us with bad noise!”

“Aren’t you supposed to _tune_ it before you try deafening us?” Jet added with a grunt.

“Oh, shut up!”

Faye leapt to her feet, firmly setting the guitar back into its case and stuffing the booklet under her arm. “Assholes,” she grumbled, barely catching herself on the railing as she lugged the heavy instrument up the stairs.

“Oh, come on Faye, don’t take it personally,” Spike called, still trying to shake the ringing from his ears. “I’m sure it’s _supposed_ to sound like a dying metal bird screaming in the middle of traffic.”

Faye stopped halfway through the hatch to shoot Spike a glare. “You all can go _fuck_ yourselves!”

With that, she ducked out of sight. Her bitter curses faded down the hall, followed by the distant sound of a slamming door. Jet shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, at least we’ll have some peace and quiet, for a bit.”

Spike stared up the stairs, blowing a thick cloud of smoke.

_Shit._

In one swift motion, he’d completely undone his efforts. The banter went too far. Normally, she’d have shot back with a snarky comment of her own, but this time was different. He’d seen genuine hurt in her eyes, far too late. With a sigh, Spike stood; his instincts told him to follow her, and this once he was inclined to listen.

“Where’re you going?” Jet called over his shoulder. “She’ll be fine, once she’s cooled off a little.”

“I know,” Spike grunted. “I’m... just going to make sure she doesn’t destroy my shit in the process.”

\----

_So much for not going to her room._

Spike loitered in the hall, the sound of guitar strings barely muffled by the metal door; Faye had found a way to sound angry even as she learned how to play. Stealing his nerve, he tapped three times on the door.

“Faye?”

The guitar sounds abruptly halted, but there was no other response. Spike rubbed his neck wearily. “Can I come in?”

The silence persisted. “Come on… I don’t wanna do this through a fucking door. Open up.”

_“Fuck off.”_

“I meant what I said, alright? Shit, not about the… not about the dying animal thing. I mean that you’ll learn the guitar fine. No bullshit. Just… open the door.”

There was a moment of quiet shuffling, before the door slid open a crack. Faye glared through the narrow opening, raging fire in her eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Because we’re doing it again,” Spike sighed, “and I don’t want to worry about being smothered in my sleep.”

Spike had to stick his foot in the door to keep it from closing. “Fuck… look. It’s obvious we can’t go back to how we were before, because now we have… our _agreement_ thing.”

Faye snorted. “‘Agreement thing.’ Real catchy.”

“What, you want me to call it a cuddle contract?”

A sharp heel dug into the top of his foot. Spike hissed in pain, but he stood his ground. “Faye, come on _._ We can’t keep doing this. This morning, and just now… something’s gotta change. We used to piss each other off and it was fine but now… look, will you just work with me, here?”

Faye huffed, but she removed her heel. After a moment, she slid the door open a bit more. “Alright, Spiegel. New rule, then.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“No being a dick about the guitar. Ever.”

Spike shrugged. “I won’t… as long as you don’t suck at it. WHICH,” he yelped as she attempted to slam the door on his foot again, “is a joke! And the last one I’ll make. Shit!”

“It fucking better be,” Faye muttered. 

A sudden thought flashed through Spike’s mind. An idea, risky in execution and definitively with consequences, but damn the rules, damn Faye, and damn subtlety. It was time for a risk. “Hey. I’ve got a new rule, too. A truth for a truth.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You tell me something, and I tell _you_ something. Equal exchange.”

Faye’s eyes narrowed. “... Seems reasonable. Where’s this going?”

_The moment of... well, truth._ “Why’s the guitar so important to you?”

“... Tell me how you knew about that dark gate.”

Spike narrowed his eyes, his fists clenching in his pockets. “That’s... not an equal exchange.”  
  


“How the hell would _you_ know?” Faye hissed. “You know what? Fuck it. Sure, we can do a truth for a truth, but _you_ get to go first. Figure something out, and then we can talk. Until then, you can fuck off; I’m _learning._ ”

With a quick kick from her boot, Faye freed the door from Spike’s shoe and slammed it in his face. Spike pumped a fist, glaring at the metal separating them. “You’re making talking to you real _fucking_ hard, you know that?”

_“Now you know how_ **_I_ ** _felt!”_ Faye yelled, her voice only slightly muffled by the door.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

_“Storage, asshole! Think about it!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *stumbles in with my face in my hands* Hey, fam! 'Sup? I've been tearing my hair out for weeks now and I've decided to say fuck it and just get this posted.
> 
> In truth, this chapter's been pretty finished for a while, but I've been...... ah. Writer's block combined with a minor loss in enthusiasm. I have so much story to tell, don't get me wrong, but I kinda lost sight of where I was going and got so overwhelmed with trying to balance plot and the internal conflicts that I just... puttered to a stop. Lost motivation, lost perspective, and in turn lost any kind of confidence that my writing was all that good. Note: this is more me airing my grievances @ myself and willing forgiveness OF myself for taking a break. Writing's fucking hard, and the better I want to get at it, the more scared I've been that the story won't land or that I won't have fun writing anymore.
> 
> SO! Where does that leave us?
> 
> The story goes on. Maybe the plot as I know it will take a back seat for now, so that I can just write Them. Spike and Faye are what I love writing, so I might just need to Write Them and let the plot edge its way back in in its own time and not try and force it. I have some fucking choice moments coming, and I want to be excited when I write them. 
> 
> Double thanks again to Shadowcrest and Ooka for beta-reading; both received a frantic plea from a desperate writer needing to know if the words she'd been staring at for Days were actually any good, and they were kind and gave me the pointers and encouragement I needed. I may come back to this chapter someday, flesh it out better, but for now I just need it to be out there. Thanks for reading, thanks for your patience as I learn and grow as a writer, and thank FUCK I can let this chapter go. Like, I definitely enjoyed writing it, but that was A While Ago. Staring at it did not make it better.
> 
> To those readers who are learning writing themselves, don't lose hope. The story will come back to you; the words won't be gone forever. Give yourself time and patience! This should be fun to do. And if you're on a similar writer's block to the one I just had, don't worry; it'll pass. Write small snippets or whatever you can, just keep creating.
> 
> Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go hunt down my writing beast and throttle her. That bitch owes me two weeks of inspiration, damn it
> 
> Addition: I FORGOT BUT THE PHRASE "cuddle contract" WAS A READER'S IDEA AND I FINALLY MANAGED TO WORK IT IN! I can't for the life of me find the comment, but if you're out there, lemme know so I can give you credit! That phrase gave me such a giggle and I'm so glad i could work it in ;D


	5. Honky Tonk Headache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves awkwardly* Hello! It's me again! Writer's block is still being a bitch, but I'm trying to get there! I've been really drawing inspired recently so if you ever want to see that kind of stuff, I post Bebop art on my tumblr (thestarlightsymphony.tumblr.com), so you can see what I've been up to!
> 
> Because I HAVE technically been creating. It's just the words are doing the difficult right now ;P

Spike slunk back into the living room, ignoring Jet’s raised eyebrow as he retook his rightful place on the couch. Ed hummed on the floor in front of her computer screen. Ein was still nowhere to be seen, probably still hunkered down to avoid any more spontaneous recitals.

“Your shit intact?”

“Yeah,” Spike sighed, closing his eyes as he curled an arm behind his head. 

When he offered no further explanation, Jet grunted. “You didn’t happen to… make it worse, did you?”

Keeping his eyes shut, Spike shrugged. “Who’s to say with her?”

Oh, he’d definitely made it worse. Spike could understand a little now why she’d never brought up saving him. It was something she’d done for him, not something he’d done against her. It was much easier to use aggression as a pressure point against someone you’re pissed at.

Damn her. Faye’d asked him to do the one thing he’d been trying to avoid. If she opened up first, he could gauge how much he needed to reveal to satisfy her curiosity. Spike knew intimately the power of truth. He had no desire to use it against Faye, but to reveal his first… No way. 

Curse the fucking dark gates. It went beyond regret, telling Jet he knew the location and being able to lead them directly to it. Of course she’d pick up on the first part of his past he’d reveal, and insist on pushing against his refusal. 

It was just… Spike had been so desperate to be useful, and he trusted Jet not to ask the why, only take the information and run with it. That was their unspoken deal, even from the beginning. It was Faye’s curiosity he’d forgotten to take into account, and now he was paying for it.

He couldn’t talk about the dark gates. Not with her. His youth, and that particular facet of his youth, was too much, too complicated. Like his whole history, but that piece led down a dangerous path, one that left him scarred, with mismatched eyes.

Spike eased open his right eyelid, just enough to know it was cracked open. The world remained dark, as he knew it would. He’d grown easily accustomed to half-sight; after all, this wasn’t the first time he’d had to make the adjustment. The first time may not have been for as long, but it was a memorable experience, to put it mildly. He built instincts then that he never truly forgot. 

With a soft sigh, he closed his eyelid again, willing the hum of the ceiling fan to wash over him. It was at times like this he appreciated the ability to let his mind fall blank, a thoughtlessness he could succumb to and let flow through his senses.

“Hey, Spike?”

Spike grimaced. It was easier to be thoughtless when people didn’t try talking to him. “What, Jet?”

“Do you think we were too hard on her?”

Spike rolled to face the back of the couch. “If you’re so worried, why don’t _you_ go check on her? Like you said, she’ll be fine once she’s cooled off.”

He hoped against hope she’d be fine. There was a lingering fear that when she came to his room that night, it’d be to strangle him.

And much to his own frustration, the fear was fueled by guilt. He’d fucked up _again_ ; it felt like at this point, he could do no right. Every opportunity to get back on her good side, to get her to talk, was dashed or deflected or met with blatant stubborn refusal.

Spike’s guilt was becoming a more vocal pesterer.

_Why won’t Faye talk to me? After all we’ve been through… I mean, we never talked before, that was for the best. But things changed, and_ **_she_ ** _changed. It was her damn idea, why won’t she just follow through?_

Spike clenched his eyes tightly shut, wishing a blank mind would come along and hit him in the head.

_I just want to help. Can’t she see that? Whatever memory’s hurting her isn’t going to go away on its own, and she’s not approaching it by herself. What’s the big deal, that she’s keeping it so close?_

_… Does Faye not trust me?_

Spike snorted. 

_We’re well beyond trust at this point. We’ve got to be… right?_

_Say she doesn’t trust me. Why not? Why wouldn’t she trust me to help her? We’ve had each other’s backs for over a year, we’ve been sharing the same bed for months, for fuck’s sake, what more could she---_

Storage. Of course.

_I swear, that day is going to haunt me for the rest of my life._

Blank mind abandoned, Spike glared at the back of his closed eyelids, resolve boiling in his veins.

_Alright, she won’t forgive me for that. I’ll ask her about it, get the full truth, somehow. Faye can’t use it against me forever. Until then, how do I get her to trust me?_

Spike already knew the answer, and he didn’t like it.

_Follow through… truth for a truth…_

_Damn you, Faye._

It was not so easy, digging through his memories to try and find one safe enough to reveal. It wasn’t just about the rawness of the memories; it was the instinct to keep his life close to his chest. No one needed to know his history. No one had any right to his past other than himself. The one person who might have… was gone.

Another raw heartache. Spike let it surface for a moment, let her eyes pass in his memory. The pain followed in a powerful wave but he rode it, let the heartache shudder and flow so as not to overpower him.

_Whatever happens, happens. She’s gone. I can’t do anything for her, now._

Still, her eyes lingered. The wave receded and he was left with a soft breath in the middle of his Faye-centered headache.

_Julia was never like this. I knew her, understood her, but… there were days I couldn’t read her at all. Or I didn’t have to, I just… knew whatever she needed me to know. Calm, a constant breathlessness, even in the middle of the storm._

_A lighthouse._

_Faye keeps her heart on her sleeve, and yet I can’t fucking fathom her sometimes. She’s hot-headed and flips her switch in seconds, but goes off and starts learning shit on a whim? Finds her purpose in a spur of the moment, just because life shoved the motivation straight up her ass?_

_A ship, not so much drifting anymore as barreling through the water and becoming a storm herself._

Spike sighed. It wasn’t wise, comparing the two, but he wasn’t sure what else to do.

_You met her, Julia. At least that’s what she said. Faye didn’t ask questions, then. She knew it was important enough to just let it go._

_… But I can’t let this go. To follow through, to help, I can't just let it go._

Spike knew his choice: let his walls down the slightest bit to regain Faye’s trust, or retain his pride and let Faye’s dreams continue to torture her. It wasn’t technically his problem, she could be stubborn if she wanted, but… they’d agreed. Talk through their dreams. Let it help.

Was it worth it to allow himself to be vulnerable to regain some control of the situation, or keep his life undisclosed at the price of Faye’s trust?

_… This is why I hate women with attitudes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a headache for the past three days and this chapter came out of Fucking nowhere into my brain but HEY! WORDS! The bump in the road has been....... moderately crossed over? I got a solid four pages that flowed a lot easier than words have in weeks, but I'm still a little fumbling here and there.
> 
> Part of the writer's block is I had a Crazy September and then a really rough start to my October, and instead of being able to escape visa vi some good ol' bastard bounty hunters, my inspiration to write Anything about them got completely shot. Their internal monologues that was so clear for arc one escaped me for a bit, and that was more devastating to me than anything else. My original plan was to have this be a Faye chapter next, but... something about what I wrote for her just wasn't complete, and I can't put my finger on it yet. For now, Faye's taking a longer vacation in my brain than Spike, and I liked how this sequence in his head played out at least a little, so I'mma throw it into the cosmos. My perfectionist nature is rearing its rude-ass head right now, and I'm trying to make sure I don't let it get the best of me.
> 
> ..... Still, there's something that feels incomplete to me. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, it's my story so who's to say what it is, but I'm interested to see if there's anything y'all have questions about or maybe thought trails I haven't yet explored. 
> 
> At least I know what needs to happen next chapter. I've been looking forward to it and maybe some fucking sense can be made of the writing juices. I might also go on a wild tangent down another storyline to wrangle up Faye--- I mean have a calm discussion with Someone who isn't Cooperating right now.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!


	6. Six-String Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say other than I'm fucking proud of that title, and it's my birthday today! My birthday give to you is a new chapter! YEET!

It was a cheap shot, but Faye didn’t care. She was angry and she was determined to _stay_ angry. 

_Unbelievable! Who’s Spike to say_ **_I’m_ ** _difficult to talk to?_

Faye tried to force the interruption to the back of her mind as she resettled on her futon, but the sight of Spike’s searching eyes had pissed her off good and proper. 

_What right has_ **_he_ ** _to decide how important something is? Truth for truth, but only if_ **_he_ ** _says it’s equal? As if!_

_Honestly, I shouldn’t even bother wasting thoughts on that lunkhead. Just a waste of time. He was doing so well trying to be nice but he went right back to his old, stupid bullshit that’s just… Agh! Who needs him, anyway?_

Faye was grateful to the weight of the guitar weighing heavy across her leg. It was bulky and unfamiliar, something to focus on. Right now, she sure as hell needed the distraction. Her eyes roved across the instrument, glancing every so often at the booklet to remind herself of terms as she went.

_Alright, where was I? These are the tuning keys... A little stiff, but that’s sure to loosen up in time, right? These are, er, frets? Yeah, frets. Frets go along the fingerboard. God, these names are terrible. Soundhole? Musicians can’t be_ **_that_ ** _unoriginal, can they? Pickguard… What’s it guarding? Who cares, as long as the fucking thing works for me. Shit, this is a lot to remember._

_The visual is there, at least..._

Not for the first time, Faye paused to admire the finish. She felt something, a spark in the center of her chest, at the sight of the emblazoned design. Familiarity was so close, yet still _just_ out of reach. The instrument itself was right, down to the smallest detail, but… her playing it felt wrong. Or different. The details were still fuzzy. She could almost see it on the floor of her parents’ room, glimpse it near the fountain, but… the world around it was foggy, gray and just out of reach.

_Well… maybe the sound will do something._

Faye plucked cautiously at the strings, dwelling on the vibrations and using the included digital tuner to adjust each string correctly. There was a certain thrill in the small success, and before long Faye was ready for… whatever came next.

She glanced at the booklet.

_Alright. Step one. First chord. Pointer finger here… middle finger, d-string…_

Taking a deep breath, Faye took a hesitant swipe across the strings. The sound resonated much softer this time; she gave an experimental second swipe, a little more confidently, and the sound grew in sudden volume. Every movement was slightly jarring, unfamiliar, and the buzz of excitement wasn’t helping her nervous fingertips.

_Come on, don’t lose focus now! It’s just the first step; I can do this._

Confidence waned as Faye struggled to remember everything. Too much new information crowded her brain: hand positions and chord names, combined with the ever-present pressure of learning it all as quickly as possible. The build-up to this moment had left the whole crew intrigued; if she faltered, she’d never hear the end of it. Still, discouragement lingered as her fingers clumsily maneuvered across the strings.

_Pinky finger here, and--- shit, no, that’s not it. This… and… here. Right?_

TWANG!

_Nope, not that. Try it again... Ugh, this is so frustrating! Why does it take so much time to learn things?_

_I just want to be good_ **_now_ ** _, but… Oh, what am I going to do? I knew it’d be hard, but this feels impossible---_

  
  


**“You’ll pick it up just fine. You’ll do good.”**

  
  


Faye bit her lip, glancing towards the door. After a moment, she scowled.

_Screw him. I don’t need his encouragement to keep going; of_ **_course_ ** _I can do this on my own. He wasn’t actually trying to help, anyway, he was just trying to butter me up before he got all nosey again. If Spike wants to talk about things, he has to go first. I won’t budge on that._

_It’s not like there’s much to tell, anyway..._

That was the truth of the matter. Though Faye avoided thinking about it, the reason she was so hesitant was obvious: he’d never believe that her memories of this guitar were mostly static. And that bit worse than the strings against her fingers.

_I can hear him now. ‘You’re telling me that you bought the guitar to figure out why you wanted it in the first place? Real smart logic, Faye.’ What does he even know about memories? Or honesty? Or ANYTHING? Son of a bitch wouldn’t know honesty if it bit him in the ass---_

TWANG!

_Stop thinking about it. Just… stop thinking about it._

With significant effort, Faye threw herself into playing the chords, again and again and again. She was determined to learn this on her own.

And she’d figure out the song on her own, too, damn it.

  
  


\----

  
  


No one came to check in on her as she slowly built up muscle memory, and she preferred it that way. Just Faye, learning the guitar, alone in her room.

The echo of the strings made the small space feel hollow, all the more isolated. 

But it was what she wanted, what she’d had to do to escape more teasing. 

_How was I supposed to know it was so loud? It was my first time picking up the damn thing--- at least, I think it was---_ _Shit! Cramp!_

Faye grimaced, trying to banish her crewmates from her mind as she shook her hand for the dozenth time. It wasn’t fair, how much their reactions continued to nag in her memory. 

_‘Faye-Faye’s trying to kill us with the bad noise!’ As if, Edward; what do you even know about music? You’re just a kid!_

TWANG!

_Dying metal bird screaming, indeed. I’ll show_ **_you_ ** _screaming, you pushy, selfish, lazy, stupid---_

TWANG!

_I wasn’t_ **_trying_ ** _to deafen anyone! I’m just trying--- to fucking--- REMEMBER!_

TWANG!

With a cry, Faye clenched her fist, fighting back tears as she buried her stinging hand in her sheets. 

_Stupid guitar!_

Forced to take a break to let her hands rest, Faye glared again towards the door, willing it to remain closed and hide her annoying crewmates from her sight.

Even so, the more time passed, the more her heart fell as her wish came true. Not even Jet, in all his ‘captain of the ship, knower of all things’ attitude, appeared to see how she was progressing.

As much as she hated to admit it, Jet’s words stung the most. Somehow in the months they’d all spent together, she’d come to rely on his more sympathetic tone. Small talks, what felt like ages ago, had led to a grown trust, at least Faye thought it had. Jet had shown confidence in her, built her up after Spike’s episode and given her the external faith she didn’t even know she’d needed. Now, the tiniest cut at her abilities felt more like a gash.

_Jet once told me that he believed men are honorable. Yeah, right. About as honorable as cuffing me to the fucking toilet._

With a stiff upper lip, and an even more determined glare, Faye pressed her fingers once more to the strings, relishing the satisfaction of remembering where the damn E-minor chord sat.

She played on, alone, and felt stubbornly content for it. No more sidelong thoughts about her heartless crewmates; she wouldn’t waste hurt feelings on the likes of them.

\----

Faye played for hours, only stopping occasionally to shake out her hands or wait for a cramp to pass. There was a growing exhilaration from the experience, when she suddenly realized her own progress. Chords _were_ becoming easier, and she slowly remembered more and more.

At least the way music was written looked familiar; she picked that up easily enough. It was the unfamiliar movement straining her wrists and the now growing pain of metal strings on her fingertips that threatened new discouragement. But she didn’t stop. 

_I just need more practice_ , Faye reasoned, pressing her smarting fingers into her mattress during one particular pause. _The more time I put in, the faster I’ll get it. The faster I get it, the faster the song will surface. That I’m sure of. It’s only a matter of time._

Frowning, she sucked on her left pointer finger, in the most throbbing pain.

_Is it supposed to hurt this much?_ _And… what’s that taste? It’s… metallicy._

Suddenly, Faye pulled her finger from her mouth and stared, eyes widening. Sure enough, a trickle of blood renewed from her fingertip, only briefly abated by her saliva. She nervously searched her other fingers; all looked to be on the brink of a similar fate.

She understood now why they ached so much; the wear of the strings was boring into her skin, enough to make her bleed.

_Shit, is this supposed to happen?_

Faye glanced towards the door, then back at her hand. 

_Maybe I should go ask Ed to--- no, I can look it up on my own, later. I don’t need Ed badgering me over a little cut._

_… I could try and reach the first aid kit. Where does Jet keep it? The kitchen, or storage… wait. Shit! Did he move it to his quarters?_

_If they catch me with it, I’ll be done for for sure. Fine then, I’ll wait until I can be sure they’re all busy, and look for it then. It’s not really that bad, anyway. That’d be a fine excuse for quitting now; who’s heard of musicians faltering over a little bit of blood? Ridiculous._

_I can still do this._

Faye clenched her teeth, digging her right hand through a nearby bag. An old tank-top turned into a makeshift rag, and she carefully wiped the blood from her finger and the little she found on the strings before continuing to play again, forcing herself to work through the sting.

She couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t. Giving up so easily on day one was a sign of weakness, and she wouldn’t let them win.

Faye was determined to find the memory, and prove that she could do this _one_ thing, without any help or any hollow words. She didn’t need their support in this.

She didn’t even want it.

**I tell ya, instead of feeling alone in a group, it’s better to have real solitude all by yourself.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it a surprise at this point that ShadowcrestNightingale did me a solid Again and beta-read as I tore my hair out in the background? T'was her genius that led to the little TWANG! moments and I fucking love how those came out, it was exactly the active ingredient I was missing ;) Thank you endlessly! 
> 
> This chapter was actually written before chapter 5, but it was just.... MiSSiNg something and i couldn't figure out what for the LONGEST time, so when Spike gave me words I put these aside and let him flow. HOWEVER, Faye returned a bit to me today and we Finally managed to work together and I'm ACTUALLY PROUD OF HOW THE CHAPTER LANDED! YES! I DON'T HATE WORDS TOTALLY ANYMORE!
> 
> I'm not totally sure if the writer's block is Fully gone or not, but it has been abated for now, as well as my own discouragement in my own writing. I hold myself to maybe an unrealistic standard, and sometimes I just spend too much time staring at the same words and they grow less and less interesting before my eyes. But! I must not fear! Because it's a process and a learning curve and I'm still growing and learning, and that's okay!
> 
> Again, thank you Shadow! Your tips defo put a Name to what I was missing, and I'm always grateful for the nudges even as I read Diving into the Deep with growing terror ;D 
> 
> Happy birthday again to me, I hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading, and have a lovely rest of your evening!


	7. Memories of an Elegy

Dinnertime rolled around. Jet scanned the living room as he sat down, brows knitting with unease.

To his left, Ed and Ein lounged on the floor, shoveling instant noodles into their mouths like their lives depended on it. On the couch across from him, Spike slurped absently on his own food.

Faye was nowhere to be seen. 

Sighing, Jet pulled the cord on his cup, carefully peeling away the tab to reveal the steaming soup inside.

_Why does this always have to happen? I’ve got too much to worry about without Faye’s hurt feelings being added to the list._

There was still no word from the doc or the clinic. It was as if they’d vanished. Jet had reached out to Bob for any ISSP intel he could scrounge, but nothing came of it. It was mostly old gossip, with no indication that disappearances were becoming a habit of Martian residences.

In fact, most news from Mars remained pretty consistent: gangs making plays at becoming fully fledged criminal entities, waging war over territory after the fall of the Red Dragons. The last remains of the Dragons stubbornly fought to regroup, and whispers still passed through channels of the man who almost single-handedly slaughtered them still being alive. It was slowly bleeding from fact into doubtful rumor, but the rumors stubbornly persisted.

_I just want to get rid of the pod; is that too much to ask?_

The damn thing was an eyesore, and just served as a reminder of how very close they were to losing Spike, a reminder Jet did not need or want.

_He didn’t die. Faye was in time. There’s nothing to think about… nothing to regret._

Jet glanced towards Spike over a mouthful of noodles; he stared unfocused at the table, lost in thought. 

_Poor bastard just had to try and talk to her. I’ll give him credit, he’s trying a lot harder than he used to, especially since... whatever’s happening between them started happening. But they’re both so stubborn, nothing good could come of the head-on approach, and he should know that by now._

_At least he tried. I wasn’t much better..._

Still preoccupied by his frustration with the doc, Jet hadn’t given the outburst earlier much attention. With enough time passed, however, the guilt had begun to set in.

Faye’s interest in the guitar was not news to Jet; she’d brought it up more than once before, asking him if he knew anything about guitars, if he had any advice, if there were any songs he knew that would be a good place to start. He’d brushed it off, treating this new interest as just another spontaneous creative endeavor that would die off as soon as she got bored of it.

He’d never thought to ask her why it mattered so much.

_And now she definitely won’t tell me,_ Jet thought gloomily, eyes flitting towards the door again. 

It remained closed.

_Well, if she wants to stay moody, let her be moody. I have too much to think about without worrying about her feelings all the time. Honestly, it feels like I’ve teamed up with a bunch of children---_

An exaggerated slurp drew his attention. Ed belched, peering into her empty cup and sucking the last memories of broth off her chopsticks. She tilted her head towards Jet, catching his look before he could turn away; she flashed him a quick grin, before somersaulting backwards and skittering up the stairs, giggling as she went. 

Jet watched her go out of the corner of his eye, a familiar ache returning to his chest. He’d noticed a change in the kid; Ed still wandered and dozed around the ship, but she’d grown... quieter. Or distant, almost. Thoughts were hidden under the surface, almost imperceptible through her smile.

But Jet could tell they were there, just out of sight.

More than once, he’d stumbled upon Ed in the hall, curled against Ein and twitching fitfully in her sleep. The unconscious distress more or less faded when she awoke, but every so often, arose in a faltered grin or absent sigh. Jet pretended not to see, but he knew that sigh and its source. He’d felt it himself before, more times than he liked.

Loss.

Ed hadn’t mentioned her father in weeks, but his memory lingered in her sighs. The digital pad that held her father’s image was now attached to the side of her computer, always in reach if she wanted to see him.

Jet crossed his arms, leaning back heavily and turning his eyes to the ceiling.

_Everywhere I look, I’m surrounded by orphans. Some more recent than others, some acting more like children than others._

_Orphans who insist on silence._

Jet knew many types of silences. The calm and dull, the time in between hunts as life became boredom and mere survival. Peaceful silence in the morning, when solitude was a gift, and he could simply stand and watch the sunrise.

Melancholy silence, when the Bebop went from a five-being crew back to its original two with one spray-painted farewell.

This silence was worse, because each person’s silence meant something different. Jet’s own silence stemmed from uncertain anticipation. Waiting for someone to say something, or something to happen.

He thought many times of being the first to speak, but he knew his crewmates well enough to know their responses. Spike had already given his own preview that morning: he’d just shrug it off or deflect, not one for thoughtful conversations. 

_Faye might be a little easier to reach, except for my big mouth earlier… damn it._

And Ed… he’d already tried once, hadn’t he? He’d offered an ear and she’d taken the Spike path of pretending everything was fine when it obviously wasn’t. 

_Do I push them?_

_Can I even be trusted to say the right thing?_

Jet sighed, closing his eyes at the growing weight in his chest. In all his life, Jet regretted very few things. It was his way, to live by his duty and trust his own decisions. Even his few regrets he’d made peace with over time.

Yet there was one moment, one choice that now haunted him, a choice he’d made out of respect that almost cost a life.

Across the coffee table, Jet heard the flick of a lighter as Spike lit himself a cigarette.

_He’s alive,_ Jet thought, shifting restlessly. _It was his choice to leave, but… I could have stopped him. I could have_ **_tried_ ** _to stop him… No, it was his choice. He wouldn’t have listened to me, anyway._

_And yet... I didn’t try to follow. Sure, my leg was busted… but has that stopped me before? Could I have tried to follow, at least to back him up in his final moments? Did I make the right call?_

_Am I making the right call now, keeping him in the Bebop for so long?_

The safety measures Jet had insisted on were working, more or less, but his fears of the cost grew as he watched Spike day after day. If there was one thing Spike valued most, it was his freedom. Sure, he spent most of his time lazing about the Bebop when there weren’t interesting bounties to be had, but he did that by choice. Any hopes of even jumping ship just to play a game of pool or hit up a bar were now completely out of the question, and the toll was beginning to show.

_Just hold out until we can confirm you’ll be safe,_ _pard. This is for your own good---_

_“You decided everything! In the end, you were_ **_always_ ** _right.”_

Jet’s eyes snapped open; he sat forward abruptly, Alisa’s words ringing in his ears.

_“I wanted to live my own life, make my_ **_own_ ** _decisions, even if they were terrible mistakes!”_

“Jet? You alright?”

Jet leaned heavily on his knees, taking several deep breaths before raising his eyes. Spike searched his face, curiosity and concern balanced in his look. 

The light caught Spike’s artificial eye. Four months and still no change; it remained dull and sightless, another reminder of a nearly fatal decision.

_Spike’s choice almost got him killed…_ **_My_ ** _choice almost got him killed._

“Think I just dozed off for a second,” Jet mumbled, shaking his head to try and dislodge the memories.

_Spike’s my partner, and I let him down. But now, trying to keep him alive, I still feel like I’m making the wrong move._

_I can’t help him, I can’t help Ed, and now I’ve pissed off Faye._

Jet pinched his nose with a sigh. 

_And now I’m falling into the same silence brooding as everyone else on this fucking ship. Great._

_Regret won’t get me anywhere. I can’t let myself fall into that trap. Not now, when a level head is needed the most._

_Damn it, where the hell is Faye?_

“You sure you’re okay, pard?”

“More or less,” Jet sighed. “I… oh, hell. I’m going to go check on her.”

_One screw up at a time. I can do right by them._

_I can do **right**. _

Jet made a move to stand, but before he could, the hatch rolled open, and Faye ducked into the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hobbles in after a long and arduous fight with my writing beast* WORDS!
> 
> This chapter has been stewing in my brain for probably a month now, but not entirely in this form. Needless to say, I'm happy with the form NOW but it evaded me for a hot minute there. I've got this big ol' story to tell that I'm really excited for, but one thing I didn't anticipate was how much and how Long certain pieces of set-up would take. My brain's already onto what I consider the more juicy bits, but bc the plot is still in the first phases, I hate to say it but I started second-guessing my own plot choices. Are they interesting? Are they worth the read?  
> To which my roommate has had to stubbornly remind me YES, they ARE ;D  
> Aaaaaaah, such is a writer's life. 
> 
> This chapter for Jet is a necessary piece of the puzzle, and brings up some fun little questions that I had to do some Digging to get my gritty writer's hands on. I really went from zero to six hundred for this second arc, but... fuck it, you know? Let's pry open some psyches with a crow bar and see what we find!
> 
> Thanks as always for reading! I'm doing my best to make sure this labor of love doesn't become Laborious, and that means banning myself from even LOOKING at a page bc the writer's block was just making writing unfun. I want to have fun with this story, and make something I'm proud of AND something viably readable ;D Let me know what you think in the comments, and as always, I wish you a wonderful day and fantastic Ao3 adventures :)


	8. You and Your Conscience

The hum of the Bebop did nothing but add to the cloud of doom suddenly filling the room.

Faye stood frozen on the landing, left hand shoved deep in the pocket of her jacket as she eyed Spike and Jet warily. Attempting an innocuous expression, Jet nodded towards the last unopened cup of instant noodles sitting on the table. “Dinner’s ready.”

Faye glanced briefly at the cups. “Yeah, whatever.” 

The guilty knot in Jet’s stomach twisted as he watched her shuffle down the stairs, eyes fixed determinedly forward. He almost wanted to be annoyed, as childish as her cold response was, but something in her posture was… off. It felt beyond wounded pride. If Faye wanted to play for sympathy, she’d choose to be louder, berate them or even give a victory speech at how well she was doing without them.

Her silence was far more damning.

Instead of approaching the coffee table, Faye tilted her chin up a little higher and made for the hall. As she passed, Ein whimpered, his ears pushed flat against his head.

_ Faye’s not one to turn down food. Shit, she’s mad. _

Jet looked worriedly towards Spike. He hadn’t moved, but his eyes were straining to the side, as if he’d be able to see Faye through his own head. His cigarette hung loosely in his mouth, ash precariously close to dropping into his lap. 

_ I’ll get no help from Mr. Brooding, that’s for sure. Damn it. _

Jet coughed, stealing his nerve as he turned back towards Faye. “Hey, about earlier---”

Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn’t stop walking.

“I wanted to say… I’m sorry, alright? We weren’t trying to gang up on you.”

Overhead, the ceiling fan stuttered, as if to mirror Jet’s nervous apology. Faye paused in the galley doorway. “This whole thing is really important to you,” Jet continued, “and… we were just being dicks.”

Faye’s shoulders drooped ever so slightly. “It’s no big deal,” she muttered, not turning around.

“Maybe not, but I’m still going to say it: I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

Silence, save for the creak and groan of the ship around them. Jet looked to Spike again, hoping against hope he’d follow up even a little bit. From the tilt of Faye’s chin, it seemed like she expected something as well.

But nothing came. Spike had turned just enough to actually watch Faye, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he plucked the depleted cigarette from his mouth and crushed it into the ashtray on the table.

When it became apparent Spike wasn’t planning on speaking, Faye ducked quickly through the galley doorway. Faint sounds of cupboards opening began to drift down the hall.

Even with her gone, none of the tension had eased from the room. Spike continued to stare after her, an intense concentration like a shadow across his face. For the thousandth time, Jet found himself on the brink of words he wasn’t sure he should say.

_ It’s not just about the guitar, for him; there’s something deeper going on but it’s not my place to pry. It’ll just piss them both off more. It’s none of my business. _

_ Maybe he just needs to be alone with her? I mean, he tried that earlier and it didn’t work, but maybe me apologizing first might have encouraged him?  _

_ Oh, damn it. I’m doing it again. It’s none of my business,  _ **_they’re_ ** _ none of my business. I’d just screw it up, anyway--- _

“JET-PERSON!!!”

Jet started, barely catching the armchair from toppling over as he stood abruptly. “Edward? What is it?”

Ed poked her head out from the bridge, waving wildly. “Call for Jet-person! Long-range transmission from Mars, a Mr. Doctor M.D. Doctor! You better hurry; he’s veeeery grumpy!”

He took the stairs two at a time, passing Ed as she tumbled downward. “Damn it, Ed, you should’ve told me sooner! Shit--- I mean--- oh, hell!”

_ I did it again. She was only trying to help and--- _

_ Fuck it, I can deal with them later! _

Jet scrambled onto the bridge, shaking off a fresh wave of guilt as he dropped roughly into the pilot’s seat. On the com screen, the doctor glared back at him, dark circles under his eyes and looking just about as terrible as Jet felt.

“Doc? Where the hell have you been?!”

…………………………………………….

Throughout the short commotion, Spike pulled another cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

_ Finally. At least we can get that fucking thing out of the hangar. _

He tried to keep his eyes down, to focus on the lighter he twirled between his fingers, but his thoughts drew him towards the room just a few yards away. Sounds continued to drift through the galley doorway, the sounds of someone growing more irritated as they looked for something they just weren’t finding. 

_Well now she’s just being a brat. Great. Thanks, Jet, but I’m not apologizing again._ _She didn’t want to listen to me the first time, why would she listen to me a second?_

_ But… isn’t listening the whole reason why we’re not talking? _

Memory drew Spike’s gaze sharply back to the galley. A memory of some nowhere corner store, being told off by another woman, just as short tempered but actually knew a scrap of his life. Who knew and still chose to give a damn about him.

_ “Why am I talking to you? It’s useless. You’ve never listened to anyone in your whole life. And on top of that, you’re a stubborn show-off.” _

Her voice was a comfort; the grief wasn't gone, yet Spike couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

_ Annie… even from beyond you’re telling me off.  _

_ “You think it’d kill you to listen to your elders for once? Nooo,  _ **_that’d_ ** _ be too much to ask.” _

_ This isn’t the same thing. I’m trying to help her, Annie, I really am, but… I don’t know where to start. I don’t know if there’s anywhere I can… that I  _ **_want_ ** _ to start. Everything that’s happened to me, that I’ve done, who I was... I can’t. I just can’t. _

_ “If you don’t try, then what’s this life of yours even for?” _

Another memory… further back. A younger, angrier time. When he was lost and much lonelier than the present. Spike gripped the lighter tight in his fist, his eyes narrowed as Annie’s words replayed in his mind...

\----

_ “Look at me, Spike, as best as you can. There, good. Now you listen, and listen well. You’ve got something in you that’s kept you alive this long. Call it dumb luck or will, who knows, but it’s quite something. I can feel it. Don’t let it burn out just because you’re a childish bastard. _

_ I tell you, your stubbornness will be your downfall. It’s one thing to try and stand on your own, to push past it all, but would it really kill you to just accept a hand once in a while? Listen. If you find someone, somewhere, someday that you can trust… let them listen to you. Let them  _ **_help_ ** _ you. _

_ Oh, don’t give me that look, you proud idiot. Why won’t you listen to your elders? _

_ Just… you don’t have to risk your life all the time to live. That’s all I’ve got to say. Come on, I’ll help you up… if you let me.” _

_ \---- _

Down the hall, Ein peered curiously into the galley. Spike dropped his hand from his right eye; he hadn’t even realized he’d raised it. 

_ That's just it. She won’t let me help her. At this point, the only thing that’s helped is  _ **_holding_ ** _ her, and if I tried that now I’m pretty sure she’d castrate me. _

_ Annie… I can’t start there. There has to be another way. _

Something gently prodded his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ed peering earnestly into his face.

“Spike-person, whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Nothing,” Spike grunted, waving her away.

Ed hopped to the side, dodging his hand and standing directly in front of the hall. She glanced over her shoulder. “Ein is not nothing. Whatcha lookin’ at, boy?”

The shuffling sounds were getting louder; after a moment, there was the distinct sound of someone cursing. Ed turned back to Spike, a grin plastered across her face. “Ooooh, is Faye-Faye in the kitchen?”

Spike narrowed his eyes. “... No.”

“Spi-Spi wants to go see Faye-Faye,” Ed giggled.

“No, I---”

“Well,  _ Edward _ wants to see Ein.”

Dropping to her knees, Ed patted the floor in front of her. “Ein-Ein! C’mere, boy!”

Ein’s ears lifted, but he continued to look through the galley door. Slowly, his snout rose, and he gave the air a generous couple of sniffs. Even from where he sat, Spike could see the corgi’s eyes widen.

_ What the hell? _

Ein yelped, before dashing into the living room. He lept into Ed’s arms, licking her face and barking loudly. “What is it, boy?”

He barked again, and Ed’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. 

“Really? Ooh la la.”

With a snort, Ein hopped off Ed’s lap and raced towards the stairs. Ed immediately jumped to her feet, dashing after him. Spike watched them with growing bemusement.

“Where are you two going?”

Ed grunted as she pulled open the hatch. “To find the medical kit!” she said brightly. “Faye-Faye’s gone and got herself ouchied!”

Spike was halfway down the hall before she finished her sentence.

  
_ Fine, Annie, have it your way. I'll try **again.** _

_ If this backfires, I’m blaming you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO HOW ARE YOU I'M DOING FINE WE'RE GOOD!!!!
> 
> Writing and re-writing and re-re-writing have led me here to a new chapter! This batch of chapters (like, chaps 3-9) have technically been stewing in my brain for the past two months, but the Balance of them and what Actually needs to happen has not flowed as well or quickly as I would have liked. Nevertheless, I am /so close/ to what will be new content for ME and I sure hope that'll be a help against the writer's block. For now, I am very happy with this chapter because a couple things moved forward that needed to! 
> 
> In my wanderings down the lines of what I think happened in Spike's past, I've got some headcanons and thoughts and dreams and this chapter is the first little peak into my thoughts. Annie especially and her role in Spike's life. That monologue in the middle I specifically have a scene I'm going to build for them, but that is for a future time (bc I'm still /planning and thinking and brainstorming/). I had the idea for having Spike seek out Annie's voice a couple weeks ago, but I didn't expect her to pop up so quickly. I'm glad she did, because she gave him some damn good advice, imo. Not sure if he... listened in the way Annie intended, but at least he listened a bit this time ;D
> 
> I'm sorry to keep being so "vaguely references their pasts without giving specifics" but I have plans for the different reveals and they'll be really important scenes that I want to pack a punch. Gotta have something to look forward to!  
> This arc is definitely my learning experience in terms of balancing plot and subplots, and will for-sure be longer than arc one in terms of chapters. It's been a bumpy collection of first chapters to me, as I learn to not second-guess myself so much and exist with the damned writer's block, and you cannot imagine how grateful I am to all of you for still reading. It's so strange, having my writer's journey be practically archived, but at the same time I'm excited to see where I grow and how I'll improve in building plot and suspense, and how I fucking learn how to drop hints for future things without being /too suspicious/. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!


	9. No Big Deal

_Come on, come on, where is it!_

Faye slammed the cupboard shut, biting her lip to keep from crying out. 

_Shit, this hurts!_

She’d tried to wait. Past her hunger, past the pain, and now she was paying for it with a fistfull of blood. The kitchen had been a gamble, apparently for naught; she’d rifled through every cupboard and storage container at least twice now and the damned medical kit was nowhere to be seen.

Of course the guys had to be in the living room! Probably judging her for emerging with nothing to show for but stony silence. To top it all off, Jet had the audacity to apologize.

_He must have been humoring me. Offer me food, say he’s sorry, just to indulge me._

_Although… he sounded sincere enough. He even said it twice…_

_Unlike stupid fuzzyhead, who just sat there like an idiot. Well, screw him, I don’t even want to hear another word out of that jerk---_

“Faye?”

  
Faye yelped, frantically clutching the counter and barely catching herself from falling over. She looked over her shoulder; Spike stood in the galley doorway, one hand on the wall as he peered into the room. Smoke drifted gently from the cigarette between his teeth, and he stared at her wide-eyed.

“You okay?”

“What?” Faye stuttered, shaking hair from her face and feigning indifference. “Yes, I’m fine. Like you’d care, anyway,” she added under her breath.

She turned away, pretending to search the same cupboard for the third time in hopes that Spike would leave. Unfortunately, the feeling of his eyes on the back of her neck remained.

_Damn it, Spike! Why’d you have to choose now? Fuck the kit; I just want to go back to my room, but he’s in the way!_

The look in his eyes as he’d searched her face… shit, why did it always feel like he knew more than he was letting on?

After a moment of chilled silence, Spike cleared his throat. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“What kind of question is that?” Faye spat, reaching towards another cupboard. “Of course I’m sure.”  
  


Out of the corner of her eye, she watched in growing panic as Spike drew closer. “I’d be even _better_ if you’d leave me alone.”

Spike paused, an arm’s length away. “Faye, I...Something wrong with your hand?”

Faye’s left fist clenched a little tighter. “What? No. Why would you think that? I’m fine.”

The air was growing claustrophobic; this was not going according to plan.

Faye turned to leave, intent on escaping his presence, but Spike stood like a tower in her way. Eyes narrowed, he glanced towards her left hand, still clenched in her jacket pocket. Faye glared right back at him. “I _said_ I’m fine. Now leave me alone, alright--- hey!”

In one swift motion, Spike gripped Faye’s arm and tugged it unceremoniously from her pocket. He held her fist up between them; it was still wrapped in the old tank top, but a thin stream of blood trickled down her wrist. Faye avoided his eyes, heat rising unbidden to her cheeks.

“... It’s nothing.”

Spike sighed. “Faye---”

“I said it’s nothing. Now let go of me.”

Faye tried to tug away, but Spike’s grip only tightened. “I said let _go_ ,” she hissed, raising her other hand, but before she could push him away he grabbed her other arm. “Spike---”

“Just let me help you, alright?!”

Spike’s voice echoed in the small space. They stared at each other, Faye’s eyes wide and heart pounding. 

“What?”

“... Let me help you,” Spike repeated, quieter this time.

His grip loosened slightly as he lowered her hands. Faye let him keep his hold, more out of shock than anything else, and watched wordlessly as he unwrapped the tank top and slowly pried her fingers open. Dried blood coated her palm, her fingers scored and bleeding from the unforgiving guitar strings. Faye’s eyes began to sting as she glared at her hand, her own fingertips betraying her.

_He must think I’m an idiot._

“It’s an old shirt,” she muttered, fighting to hold a scowl. “And… my jacket’s already red, so it won’t really stain. It’s not that big a deal. I don’t need any help.”

Faye dipped her chin, too afraid to see his expression. Spike still held her wrist; long fingers gently touched her own, careful not to accidentally brush the worn fingertips.

“It’s no big deal,” Faye mumbled.

Without replying, Spike gave a little tug, gently guiding her to the sink. He started the tap, and held her hand under the steady stream. Cool water ran slightly red as he began to wipe at her hand with a clean corner of the tank top. 

Something turned in Faye’s stomach. A feeling she hadn’t experienced in a while. She was suddenly aware of how close they were, of Spike’s thumb pressed against her wrist as he held her hand steady. The return of butterflies---

No, it couldn’t be _that_ . Not now. Faye remembered now, she’d felt this before, and it was _completely_ different. This was that strange Spike kindness, agonizing kindness, that made it difficult to stay angry and hurt. Faye didn’t want his help, but the not-butterflies in her stomach replayed his words too loudly to ignore.

_Let me help you._

Accepting his care only made her feel more ashamed, more helpless to her own mistake. Try as she might, however, Faye couldn’t find it in herself to move. She was frozen in place. Something inside held her there.

The butterflies, perhaps.

After a moment, Faye chanced a glance into his face. Concentration filled Spike’s gaze, a quiet intensity that contrasted how gently he treated her hand. Faye bit her lip, wincing as the water stung her fingertips. “Spike, you really don’t have to do this, I’m fine---”

“We made a deal,” he murmured. “‘Let it help;’ your words, not mine. I’m here, trying to help, so just... let me.”

Faye rolled her eyes. “This isn’t what I was talking about and you know it,” she muttered weakly. 

He shrugged. “Whatever.” 

They stood in silence as Spike soaked the old top and carefully rewrapped it around Faye’s fingers. The butterflies danced as he held her hand, faster than Faye cared to admit. Just as Spike was about to release her, he hesitated.

“Listen… that… shot I made yesterday.”

Faye blinked, confused. “... What, the shot at Walker’s ship?”

“Yeah… it was a hell of a shot.”

In a heartbeat, the butterflies evaporated. Faye narrowed her eyes as Spike turned off the tap. “Are you serious? Is this really the time to be bragging?”

“Just shut up and listen,” he said quickly, releasing her hand and leaning back against the counter. 

Spike crossed his arms, eyes downcast; he took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m half-blind, Faye. At that distance, with that fast a moving target? That should have been an impossible shot. You ever wonder how I did it?”

Faye stayed facing the sink. “You’ve always been a good shot,” she mumbled half-heartedly. 

To tell the truth, she _had_ wondered. 

Spike’s shoulders tensed. Faye watched him out of the corner of her eye, almost afraid to breathe. 

“Not always,” he said at last, voice just above a whisper. “The transition from organic to artificial wasn’t a walk in the park. I learned a lot about trajectories, physics, timing… to survive.”

Spike glanced to the side, fixing Faye with a hard look. “This isn’t the first time I’ve lost an eye, remember? Just been on an extended trip down memory lane. One... I don’t remember fondly.”

His eyes fell to the floor again, but not before Faye read the heavy discomfort in them. Almost accusatory.

Faye pressed her hands hard against the sink’s edge, careful of her fingers; it seemed to grow colder as she thought.

_That feels like nothing at all, but he’s looking at me like that’s supposed to be a huge secret. Is that the best he can do?_

_Of_ **_course_ ** _he had to learn to live without an eye before. But how long? How’d he lose it?_ **_When_ ** _did he lose it? Any of that would_ **_actually_ ** _be new information._

_… Still, this is only the second time he’s ever mentioned losing his eye to me. And the first time was… shit._

_It’s not fair. This isn’t the time or place to be doing this._

_Well, I don’t have to be any more specific than he is, do I?_

“I’m learning the guitar because it’s important,” Faye mumbled. “I mean… it just _feels_ right. I don’t remember if I played it or not, but there’s something about it that’s a part of me… and I’m trying to find it. I don’t have a reason why, I just… want to.”

That was close enough to the truth. 

Spike sighed, long and hard; smoke spread across the galley, hazy and vague as their confessions. Nothing had eased between them. If anything, the tension had skyrocketed. Faye kept her eyes on the sink drain, too wildly uncomfortable to say more.

_What a miserable start. Who are we kidding, can this really work? I wanted to listen to him to_ **_help_ ** _him, but the look he gave me… it was like I’d stabbed him, with that little nothing he said. And what can he expect from me? This is ridiculous; he’ll turn it right on my head, the moment I tell him, like I’m a child or something, and that’d be so much worse. I should’ve never insisted---_

“Found it, found it!”

Ed’s childish shriek shattered the silence as she bounded into the galley, medical kit held high above her head and Ein panting at her heels. Faye stared over her shoulder with a mixture of disbelief and dismay. “Not you, too?”

Ed nodded eagerly, setting the kit on the counter and popping the lid. “Doctor Ein and Doctor Ed, reporting for duty! Ein smelled Faye-Faye bleeding, so we brought this to help. ”

“What?!”

Spike whirled on the pair, eyes wide. “You said she’d hurt herself!”

“Wait, you came in here because of _them_?” Faye growled, grabbing at Spike’s jacket.

He ignored her, crouching to glare at Ein. “You mangy mutt, you just smelled _blood_ ? You didn’t even _see_ anything? She could’ve just been on her---”

Spike went deadly quiet, and with good reason. Faye could barely see from the red filling her eyes. “Think very carefully about what you say next, Spike Spiegel. _Very. Carefully_.”

Slowly, Spike stood, lips set in a tight line. He crammed his hands in his pockets, spitting his cigarette into an ashtray on the counter. “Take care those fingers don’t get infected,” he muttered as he made for the door.

“Thanks for the advice, _genius_ ,” Faye hissed.

He stopped in the doorway. Squaring his shoulders, Spike shot her one last half-lidded glance. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Just shut up already!”

Faye snatched a roll of bandages from the kit, but Spike was already gone before she could throw it. She gripped the roll tight in her fist, fuming.

“Ooh la la, Doctor Spi-Spi could lose his license over this.”

Faye turned back to the kit with a scowl. “He could lose a lot more than that,” she muttered, digging one-handed in the kit for the antiseptic. 

Ed plucked a bottle from the kit and held it up. “This one, this one!”

Gratefully, Faye accepted the bottle; she untangled her hand from the old top, and began smearing the clear goo over her fingers. It definitely lessened the sting, though it did nothing for her pride or sour mood.

“Do they still hurt?”

Faye glanced down at Ed; she held Ein in her arms, and they both peered wide-eyed around her side. “Sure, a little,” Faye mumbled, shrugging. “But it’s nothing really. Nothing I can’t handle.”

From his elevated position, Ein whimpered. He strained forward, licking at Faye’s arm. 

Faye grimaced. “What was that for?”

“He’s saying sorry,” Ed replied, bumping her lightly with her forehead. “And me too. We’re sorry, Faye-Faye, for the teasy-teasy earlier. You’ll be a good musical cowgirl in no time, no doubt, no doubt!”

There it was. The last person to try and apologize. Even the dog. Of all the insufferable things they could have done!

Faye continued to bandage her fingers in silence, scowling in a last-ditch effort to cling to her bitterness.Try as she might to ignore it, however, the apology had done its dirty deed and worked its way into her heart. 

Ed had always been an enigma, but Faye held a soft spot for the kid, with her weird exuberance and brilliant schemes. Now, just as she felt justified to stay pissed, the bitterness lost its bite.

Every single one of them had at least tried. Now she was the oddball again, angry and wounded and somehow feeling in the wrong.

_Why couldn’t they just stay assholes?_

Once the last finger was carefully sanitized and bandaged, Faye sighed.

_I can't believe I'm about to do this._

“Hey, Edward… er… thanks for the… you know, bringing this in here.”

Ed grinned, “Sure, sure! Doctor Ed and Doctor Ein are here to the rescue!”

“I didn’t need anyone to _rescue_ me, I just---”

“Faye-Faye doesn’t have to explain,” Ed chirped. “Ed understands.”

Faye closed the medical kit, shoulders drooping. 

_Do you?_

She looked up in surprise as Ed took her hand. “It’ll be okay,” Ed whispered, grinning. “It just takes practice! Faye-Faye has to have patience or her fingers will get sad again.”

Faye frowned. “I know that--- hey!”

For the second time in so many minutes, Faye found herself being pulled along without warning, out towards the living room. 

“Wha… Ed, where are we going?”

“To go find the Jet-person and Spike-person,” Ed hummed brightly. “Everyone’s been so mopy today, so so sad, and Edward’s had just about enough of it. It’s time for an intervention!”

Faye blanched, unable to escape Ed’s grip as she sang down the hall.

“In-ter-ven-tion, contravention, intention, inattention!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!  
> I HAD FUN WRITING THIS CHAPTER! IT'S A MIRACLE!  
> It's hard to say I DIDN'T have fun writing any of these chapters, but it's been a struggle to get this whole thing where I want. Apparently, I am not a fan of set-ups. I was definitely spoiled with arc 1 because it jumped RIGHT off the end of the show, but now dealing with all-new shit and having to think leagues ahead, I've found I am do the struggling with that. But that's writing, ey? We're all our own worst critics. The journey's hard but I'll get to the destination I'm happy with, one way or another.  
> Again though I had FUN writing this chapter and that's what counts to me. The writing beast returned to give me a good couple of wisdom nuggets; when I make MYSELF giggle writing a chapter, I know I'm writing what I want, and I giggled many times in this one :D
> 
> ALSO! AN INTERACTION I WAS HAVING TROUBLE INTEGRATING HAPPENED AND I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY! The moment where Spike and Faye sort-of tell each other things... what a frustrating pair of people. It's everything and nothing at all, and finding the right spot for that was a Journey. But I DID IT! I really wanted to give them that opportunity to... try? The fumbling and the pressure and the Actually Trying and it only sort of working because they're so wildly unfamiliar with opening up about sensitive things. 
> 
> The only time Faye really opened up in the show was about Whitney with Ein, but I always saw that interaction as she'd already had time to make peace with that memory. This stuff is "new".... and she doesn't even have all the pieces to start working through them.  
> As for Spike, he got a little further but... this is Dangerous territory for him. We'll see how they work it out eventually ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always! I have plans and schemes and they're slowly moving forward, and I'm excited to get closer to some actual action stuff! But this darned thinking and talking nonsense has to come first. Gr. Have a safe evening, take care of yourselves, and create something you love, for yourself. That's what art is for, you know?
> 
> P.S. Am I valid for the period joke? Maybe, maybe not, but it made me giggle ;D


	10. Instincts and Storm Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike's had just about enough of Faye.
> 
> Ed's had just about enough of the both of them.

Spike would’ve given anything to get the hell off the Bebop. He was just about ready to throw himself in the harbor, if it would mean escaping one more half-assed, nowhere-bound conversation with that damn woman!

As soon as he was out of earshot of the galley, Spike shuffled his pack from his pocket. He needed another cigarette, badly. Flipping open the lid, he almost dumped the whole of the pack's contents on the floor in his hurry.

_ Are you happy, Annie? _

_ I tried to help and look where it got me. _

Spike flicked on his lighter, twice, three, four, damn it five times before the flame held. The cigarette between his teeth hissed as he lit it, an angry orange glow similar to his mood.

_ Faye gave me nothing, not a goddamn thing to work with. Of course it’s important, Faye! You wouldn’t have played until your fingers bled if it wasn’t. _

Spike inhaled deeply, trying to clear his head. It didn’t do much good; the breath came out sounding more like a growl.

He wanted to bolt. Fuck the rules, he wanted to run, just leave this ship behind for a while. Every move he made felt so fucking helpless, and he couldn’t do a damn thing to fix the one person he’d actively agreed to help.

He was tempted to take up Faye’s offer of that joyride in the Redtail. It was sure to piss her off, but who the hell gave a damn at that point? She was determined to stay pissed, what was one more nail in his coffin?

Coffin… or pod. 

Jet was still on call with the doc.

Instead of fleeing to the hangar like he wanted, Spike made for the bridge. One voice of reason, and one last fleeting hope of good news. If the doc gave the all clear, maybe,  _ just _ maybe he could jump ship and put some space between them. 

Each step creaked as Spike climbed the stairs to the bridge, fists clenched in his pockets. It might’ve been his imagination, but the air seemed to grow colder as he neared the top. He could barely hear Jet’s voice, in urgent conversation that petered out just as he reached the landing. 

The setting sun cast a soft glow across the bridge, coating every surface in kind, golden light. Cautiously, Spike trudged towards the pilot’s seat, studying Jet as he approached. His partner’s arms were crossed, head bowed as he exhaled a deep sigh. 

_ Fuck.  _

“I take it the good doctor’s news wasn’t the sunshine and rainbows you were hoping for,” Spike said quietly.

Jet buried his face in his hand. “Not now, Spike,” he groaned. “Just give me a minute, will yah?”

Dropping into a seat behind him, Spike leaned heavily on the charting table, resting his chin on his arms. The pair sat in gloomy silence, matching the cool temperature of the room.

Try as he might, Spike couldn't stop thinking of Faye’s bloodied fingers. Every time he closed his eyes, they appeared like a warning, an omen of misfortune. 

It wasn’t the sight of blood itself; Spike was used to that from years of brawls he more than likely caused himself. It was something reawakened within himself, an internal reaction that set his nerves on edge.

Bone-deep instincts he hadn't leaned on in a while.

Years ago, these instincts had been forged during his time as an enforcer, specifically when he was trained as a bodyguard. Every enforcer was put through the same rigorous training, their instincts molded and mutated to fuse with their loyalty to the syndicate.

Protect. Find the source of harm and either deflect or terminate to safeguard their mark. 

Spike had been a gun, a weapon trained to enact the will of his master and protect that will at the cost of his own life. His instincts kept those around him alive, unharmed, unchallenged.

That wasn’t his life anymore, but the instincts remained, even if their appearances changed.

Loyalties changed, and he’d felt those instincts resurface more than once, let them take over to protect his own life or Jet’s while bounty-hunting. It’d been so long at this point since he’d had need of them, but they hadn’t truly faded.

Apparently, Faye’s denial of her own injury was all it took to reignite them.

_ Great. What good does that do me if the one I’m supposed to protect her from is herself? _

It hadn’t gone unnoticed, how many times she’d insisted she was fine, or there was nothing to worry about. A dutiful, pitiful lie, like a child too proud to admit they’ve fallen and scraped their knee.

_ Shit, Faye, an idiot could see you were lying, and I’m no idiot.  _

Spike took a deep pull, glancing back towards the stairs.

_ I've tried talking to her, leaving her alone, taking her fucking hand…  _

_ Faye is impossible. Maybe Ed’ll talk some nonsense out of her, or Jet could break through, but I can’t think of anything more I can do. _

“Hey, Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate Mars.”

Spike watched the smoke curling out from his cigarette. “It’s looking pretty nice from where I’m sitting,” he muttered.

Metal squeaked as Jet turned in his seat. “Don’t tell me---”

“I’m beginning to see what you meant about women and reason.”

A long suffering sigh. “What happened?”

“... I tried to help. My first mistake, apparently.” More like third at this point. 

Another sigh as Jet stood. “A woman’s heart is as fickle as the sea, Spike-o.”

“Who cares about her heart,” Spike mumbled irritably, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and burying his face in his arms. “It’s her  _ hand _ that’s the problem right now. Or arguably her head, the idiot.”

“What?”

_ “Ed, let go of me! Hey, stop!” _

_ “SPIKE-PERSON, JET-PERSON!” _

Spike kept his head down, even as a psychotic amount of scrambling and shouting indicated Ed and Faye’s approach up the stairs. 

_ Should've run when I had the chance. _

…………………………………………….

Ed barreled onto the bridge, ignoring Faye’s cries of protest as she dragged her by the wrist.

_ Ed should have seen this coming a mile away, so stupid! I hoped they were just being silly, but Faye-Faye was still grouchy, no matter Spike-person said. Well, if Spike and Faye-Faye are serious, then Ed has to be serious too.  _

She spied her target hunched over the navigation table: Spike, with his face buried in his arms. A cigarette perched, still burning between his fingers. Still tugging mercilessly on Faye’s arm, Ed made directly for him. 

“Intervention, Spi-Spi!”

Grunting, Spike raised his head; his eyes widened when he saw her determined approach. “What the---”

_ Intervention. _

_ Latin origin. A situation in which a problem of one party is confronted by friends or family to address the issue. Edward is going to put a stop to this issue here and now! _

Releasing Faye with her left hand, Ed grabbed Spike’s arm and gave a sharp yank. Too surprised to stop her, Spike stumbled to his feet next to Faye. The pair stood practically shoulder to shoulder, eyeing Ed with bewilderment. To the side, Jet leaned over the back of the pilot’s seat. “Ed, what’s up?”

“Hush up, Jet-person! Ed has the floor!”

Ed stepped back, taking a wide stance as she inspected her crewmates. Faye pointedly kept her eyes to the side, arms crossed and bandaged fingers clenched in a fist as if to hide them. Spike crammed his hands in his pockets, shooting half-lidded glances between Ed and Faye with a tight frown. Ein prowled in front of them, watching them suspiciously to keep them in place.

_ Ever since Faye-Faye’s guitar came in, the teasing turned to meanies, and they’ve been grouchy no-gooders for no reason. All moping, gripe-gripe whine-whine and too much thinky-think. _

_ The Bebop is off its rhythm. It can’t stay like this. Ed won’t have it! _

“Judge Edward is officially calling this ship meeting to session. Jet-person as first witness, Ein as bailiff woof-woof.” 

She pointed dramatically at Spike and Faye. “You two need to make nice. Ed is tired of your bullshit!”

“What?!” Faye whipped her eyes forward, about to protest, but Ein growled her into silence.

“All day long, nothing but meanies from you two. Back and forth, ping-pong ding-dong, like little kids; Ed sees it, and Ed is sick of it!”

At the last three words, Ed hopped forward, closing the distance until she stood inches from them. “It’s time to make up, make up! No more hurting feelings and grouchy-grouch. Now go on, make nice. Faye-Faye first.”

Faye stiffened; she whipped her head around to glare down at Ed. “Why me?!”

Ed crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Because Spike-person was trying to make nice earlier and you shouted. Spike-person will get his turn but you’ve been just as grouchy. Now make nice!”

Stone cold silence as Ed stood her ground in front of Faye. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, but she didn’t care. If they thought she was mad, so what? She  _ was _ mad, in a way, and it served to hide the storm cloud that festered over her shoulder.

She'd done her best to ignore it for weeks. It was nothing but a cloud, after all.

A cloud that kept her up at night, breaking sweet dreams with lightning-strike nightmares of this exact situation. The gradual crumbling of all that she’d regained.

Ed narrowed her eyes up at Faye, who met her look with dwindling defiance. The Bebop was off its rhythm. She couldn’t afford it to stay this way.

After a few tense seconds, Faye dropped her gaze in defeat.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

Ed nodded and turned to Spike. “Now Spike-person.”

Spike stared long and hard at Faye’s downcast eyes before speaking. “... I’m sorry.”

Ed’s toes curled as relief flooded through her. “Good. Now, because Ed knows better, Ed is banning teasings and fightings until… until the next bounty is caught. No more gripe-gripe, whine-whine until you can learn to play nice, okay?”

She turned to Jet, who’d watched the exchange in bewildered silence. “Jet-person first witness agrees, no more fighting until next bounty?”

Jet ran a hand over his head, brow furrowed. “I mean… sure kid. Whatever you say. If you don’t mind me asking though, what brought this on?”

Ed frowned, wary of the storm cloud. 

“Bebop’s off its rhythm," she said finally, shrugging. "Ed wants it back.”

With that, she saluted them and scampered off down the stairs. She didn’t dare turn around as she gave one last shout. “Remember, noooooo meanies until next bounty!”

_ No meanies until next bounty. They can learn to play nice, it’ll be okay. They can do it. Everything will be a-okay. _

_ Bebop will stay Bebop, and Edward will stay Edward. _

_ Stinky bad nightmares are wrong.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to ShadowcrestNightingale for beta-reading! As usual, her tips were a life-saver. Drafting this chapter was a journey that got suddenly Way Better when I finally sat down and wrote from Ed's perspective at Shadow's suggestion.
> 
> I actually ended up rereading a couple chapters from RtM,SC to get a feel of how exactly I wanted to approach Ed here. Finding her demons has been complicated, and I don't necessarily want to reveal them all at once, but after drafting her side of this scene, it felt really necessary to share these bits of her thoughts. 
> 
> As I've said, this whole series is a big ol' learning experience for me, and balancing all these characters' thoughts and motivations has been a huge part of that learning struggle. I've got thoughts and plans for each of them, and there has been more than one occasion that I've second-guessed my own plot or decisions in the story. Is it interesting? Is it accurate? Is it worth reading?
> 
> And to all those questions is one simple answer: fuck yeah it is, this is my story and I should write what I want. I want to write all of them, so damn it I'm going to write all of them! These beginning chapters have all been about set-up, establishing pieces and laying the board for what I want to explore and develop for our rag-tag crew. I'm not the strongest in... subtlety, lol, so learning how to hint at things in an interesting way without revealing ALL the motivations has been a #struggle, but I hope the follow through is worth the wait when I start to do more digging and revealing.
> 
> My after-chapter ramblings are in part a little word back to myself, to remind me that yes, I can do it, but I also hope it serves as an encouragement to other writers. I've gotten discouraged a fair few times in this story, and that's okay! I've let the story sit, I've tried new perspectives, I've gotten help (LOADS) from other writers and friends, and it's all worked together for one goal: moving forward. And that's a big theme in this story for me.
> 
> tldr; thanks for reading, writing is hard, here's a lot of words!


	11. A Page out of Her Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles are so hard. 
> 
> Alternative title: Teamwork Makes the Dream(s) Work.

The trio stared after Ed, unified in their confusion. Spike couldn’t remember seeing her so upset, except for maybe after losing her week-long match against Chessmaster Hex. Still, that situation was understandable. He and Faye fighting wasn’t a new thing; it was arguably more routine than if they weren’t. The reason for the day’s moodiness was new, but it couldn’t have looked that different to her, could it?

_Have we really been that bad?_

Spike glanced down; to his surprise, Ein hadn’t followed Ed. Instead, he too watched the stairs, ears flat against his head. He gave a doleful whine.

Faye shifted uncomfortably in the silence. “Did she seem… off to you guys?"

Spike nodded. “Something’s been going on with her.”

“She say anything to you?” Jet asked, shuffling forward to stand beside them.

“No.” Spike resisted the urge to shoot Faye a look.

_I’m not someone people like to talk to._

The last of the sun’s rays faded over the bridge; various monitors now provided the only light, casting the group in harsh shadows. Jet knelt to pet Ein, still gazing off towards the stairs. He sighed.

“I’ve got news from the doc, but it’s too late tonight for that. There’s a lot we need to talk about, and… shit, Ed might be right. A fresh start might do all of us some good. Er... well… get some sleep, you two. G’night.”

Without waiting for a reply, he stood and followed Ed down the stairs. Ein yawned widely before trotting off after him.

All too suddenly, Spike found himself alone on the bridge with Faye. She stood frozen in place, tense and silent as she stared towards the stairs. 

Spike was tired of thinking. Of talking and arguing and tripping over this weird dance they were attempting. Maybe Ed was right, maybe they _had_ gone too far, but there was little hope that a ‘fighting ban’ would actually do any---

“I’m sorry for shouting at you; that wasn’t fair. You were just trying to help.”

\--- good. Huh.

Before Spike could respond, Faye hurried towards the stairs and out of sight. Just like that, he was alone, with only the smoke from his cigarette and the stars for company. 

They really had a knack for this, an incredible ineptitude for conversation matched only by their ability to piss each other off. The butterfly effect of one day, as they stumbled from one failed attempt to talk after another. Truly a masterpiece of a train wreck.

As he listened for footsteps to fade, a realization dawned, slow and spiraling like smoke.

_Since when has Faye ever cared about fair?_

_… Since we agreed to do this together. A team effort, she’d called it._

_Faye’s always had a skewed view on how a team actually works. She insisted we talk about our dreams… Maybe it never occurred to her that she’d receive support in return._

That was the thing about Faye. Faye was a runner. She ran from debt, she’d run from the Bebop when she’d stolen from them; as little as he knew of her, Spike figured she’d spent a lot of her life running away. 

Maybe Faye had spent so much time running, she didn’t know how to stop. Maybe in her attempts to move forward, she was running from the solution to her pain the whole time.

Spike waited another ten minutes before heading for the stairs.

He had one last idea.

\----

Faye’s door was open. 

_This feels dangerously familiar._

_Well, it’s worth one final shot._

Spike didn’t look inside, he just knocked on the wall and waited. After a stiff moment, Faye appeared in the doorway, a nearly empty cup of instant noodles in her hand. She’d already changed into her tank top and shorts, and stood awkwardly chewing. “H’llo.”

“Yo.”

Spike leaned against the wall, briefly eyeing her left hand. “How’s your fingers?”

Faye shrugged, absently inspecting the bandages. “Still hurt a little, but… I’ll be fine.”

_Fine again. Not good, but fine._

Rubbing his neck, Spike braced himself for what he was about to say. “Look, Faye… We need to figure this out. And before you freak out,” he raised his hands as Faye’s body went stiff, “let me finish. I knew I wasn’t good at the whole talking thing from the beginning, and today has just proved that I was right. But we made a deal and I plan to stick to it. So… I want to start over.”

Faye eyed him warily, but there was a hint of curiosity in her tone. “What do you mean?”

_No turning back now._

Spike almost gagged, but the plan was in motion. He’d actually gotten it from Faye’s novel he’d scoured weeks ago for an answer. A reunion scene he’d read once through before almost ripping the book in half in disgust. Real people didn’t talk like that; was the author insane??

But this was the time to speak Faye’s language, and Spike had already made up his mind.

With a sigh and a wince, he carefully held out his hand. “My name is Spike Spiegel. I’m a bounty hunter on a ship called the Bebop. Today has been rotten, and I have a headache. It’s nice to meet you or… whatever. Would… eugh, would you… us… friends?”

Spike couldn’t hide a grimace as he stumbled over the words. This was for Faye’s benefit, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to dive into Ganymede’s waters and let the tide carry him away from this crappy novel make-up moment. 

But this was a part of the plan.

Reintroductions, as sappy as he could manage. That was the point of the scene in the book, right? If things weren’t working, start from scratch. Take the fresh perspective together, and move forward, if a bit dramatic.

For his own sake, Spike chose to see it as merely changing tactics.

His hand hovered between them much longer than he would have liked. Spike was just about to withdraw, face burning, when Faye took his hand.

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Spiegel,” she said softly. There was still a hint of trepidation, but a smile ghosted across her lips. “Faye Valentine, also a bounty hunter on the Bebop. Today _has_ been rotten, and… it might be nice to start over. So, um… sure, let’s be friends.”

They shook once, nodding awkwardly to each other. As they released, Faye shook her head. “God, we’re terrible at this, huh?”

Spike shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “That feels like an understatement at this point.”

That earned a smirk. Faye nudged him gently, returning to her cup of noodles with moderately less tension in her shoulders. 

Now came the tricky part.

“Faye… what do you say we spend the night alone. Just tonight.”

Faye looked up at him quickly, a last mouthful of noodles bulging in her cheeks. Her eyes flashed with fear as she hastily swallowed and returned to her cup. “Alone?”

“Sure. We’ve been spending so much time together, maybe that’s what’s been off. One night shouldn’t hurt much. We’ll start off Ed’s little fighting ban on neutral ground, what do you say?”

Spike kept his tone casual, pretending not to see the nervous shifting of her feet. The idea seemed reasonable, but would she go for it? 

Still staring into her cup, Faye nodded wordlessly. Spike hid a sigh of relief.

_Apparently yes._

“It’ll be alright. Just one night, and we can figure out what happens next after that.”

Faye nodded again; there was no denying the tension had returned in full force. Shifting away from the wall, Spike gave her a slight nod. “G’night, Valentine.”

“Good night, Spiegel,” Faye murmured.

“I meant what I said, earlier. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

The door slid shut, once again hiding Faye behind metal walls and uncertainty. Spike buried his hands in his pockets, shuffling off towards his own room with a sigh.

_Trust me, Valentine. And trust yourself._

Spike changed into his sweatpants and flopped onto his bunk with a moan. It wasn’t going to be an easy night, but he’d tough it out. He’d done it before, he could do it again. And maybe, if Faye faced whatever ‘it’ was tonight, the whole ‘working together’ thing might actually start working. 

This wasn’t to stop her running away from him, after all. It was for her to stop running from herself.

There’s this thing about trust. The vast ocean of secrets and stories that make up human beings will remain hidden, murky and unknowable, unless they were willingly revealed. There are ways to get people to talk through force or coercion, but these techniques are more than a little frowned upon between comrades. Between friends.

Humans can only take so much pushing before they lock up altogether. Too much pressure and trust can be shattered, permanently. Honesty between comrades shouldn’t be bought, or nagged, or shamed. It has to be given freely to those worth trusting with the truth. The more painful the truth, the deeper the trust needed.

But what happens when a person with secrets won’t trust even themselves with the truth? 

They bury it, further and further until it sinks to the pit of their stomach, into the very depths of their subconscious. 

Spike knew all this from experience, but Faye wasn’t a ‘drink your demons away’ kind of girl. She was a runner. You can only run so far from yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spike reached his Absolute Limit in this chapter, and I'm so very proud of him. Although if I would have told him when he woke up from his coma that he'd actually take a page out of Faye's book (literally) he would have laughed in my face and then punched me probably.  
> But that shows just how far he's come, and how far he's willing to go. And in this case, he's taking the step back. Or trying to. If Faye won't talk to him, maybe she just needs to talk to herself? Working out the EXACT details of this whole exchange was tricky, but I'm happy with how it turned out.
> 
> Poor Spike XD he really almost blew a fuse at me as I was writing this, and there was some negotiating, but I never got a really digging feeling that he wouldn't actually say any of this. And that was important to me. I could write a thousand words and lead them down a thousands paths, but as a writer I want to stay true to who they are, as best I can. Everyone will interpret them differently, and as I'm interpreting them, yes Spike wants to strangle me for having to say all that sappy shit but he said it nonetheless.
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Aaaaaah, poor poor Spike... we'll see how poor poor Faye does, maybe sooner than you think ;D


	12. Without You

_It’s finally happening! We’re going to see the stars!_

_How exciting to be so high!_

_I can’t wait to tell everyone back home what it’s like. How do you even begin to describe it--- ah, there’s light! Just peeking around the corner, and--- there!_

_Wow._

_It’s… it’s beautiful._

_Mom, loo--- oh, she’s sleeping. I’ll let her rest, it’s been a long day._

_But, oh… it’s breathtaking._

_There’s so many stars. I wonder what constellation that is. Or… or that one! Orion’s belt, was it?_

_I want to see them all. The stars, the_ **_sky_ ** _, just at my fingertips!_

_I can barely take it---_

_Wait._

_What’s happening?_

_The gravity--- mom, what’s happening?_

_Mom, the artificial gravity’s gone. Mom?_

_Dad?? What’s happening?? What was that light?? It looked like sparks---_

_Mom?!_

**_CRACK._ **

_MOM!!!_

\----

_I’m… awake..._

_That light… it’s bright… and cold…_

_My eyes are open, but… I don’t understand._

_What’s happened?_

_It’s cold..._

_A man… is speaking…_

_Who… who is he?_

_Old woman? What’s he saying?_

_Bacchus… I can’t speak… I can barely think..._

_He checks my eye… my mouth… I can hear but I barely understand…_

_Healing? What does he mean?_

_“--- Once you’ve paid that amount, you’ll be free! You understand?”_

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“Hm?”_

_“This place… Where is it? Where am I? Who are you?”_

_He’s laughing… why is he laughing?_

_Where am I?_

_I don’t… where did he go?_

_Hello?_

_Hello??_

_The room is empty… I’m alone again… this place… I’m so c-cold..._

_Wait… I remember… I was with…_

_Oh god._

_Mom?_

_I’m alone. I don’t want to be alone._

_No… no, don’t put me back!_

_The ice… no… no!_

_I don’t want to be alone!_

_Mom?!_

_DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE!!!_

\----

Faye felt herself crying before she knew she was awake. Sobs wracked her body. Her room was pitch black, suffocating emptiness enclosing the space.

Faye scrambled in the darkness, tearing at the sheet twisted around her body.

_No… please don’t be…_

_Spike?_

_Spike!_

She scrubbed her eyes with one hand, frantically searching the bed for his body with the other. But he wasn’t there.

She was alone.

Fresh panic began to cloud Faye’s senses. Still blinded by tears, she stumbled towards the door. The handle seemed to stick as she shakily forced it open.

_I can’t be alone!_

The hall was empty. Some sane part of her mind confirmed that she was still on the Bebop, but everything was still, too quiet to be normal. No clatter of claws or faraway giggles or gruff admonishments to confirm life.

Just silence and the dull safety lights exposing an empty ship.

“G-guys?”

Her faint whimper barely echoed down the hall.

There was no response. 

Faye clutched the wall, gasping; her breathing grew fast and frantic as fear turned to terror. Her throat closed up as she looked wildly down one end of the hall to the other. She wanted to scream for them, run to anyone’s door, but what if they weren’t there? 

_They… they wouldn’t leave me._

_I can’t be alone._

Every time Faye blinked, cracks spread across the window of the private space shuttle she’d seen in her dream. She was full-on hyperventilating now; tears streamed down her cheeks as she crumpled against the wall.

_I can’t be alone._

Faye clenched her eyes shut. Her own terrified cries echoed in her ears, droplets of blood floating in zero gravity. 

The cold of cryosleep, seeping through her veins...

_DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE!_

“Faye?”

Her eyes shot open. The hall was a blurry haze.

_Spike?_

_Please… please be real!_

“What the--- oh, shit.”

Sure enough, the figure of Spike appeared, coming down the hall from the direction of the bathroom. His eyes widened as he drew closer.

A sob forced its way up Faye’s throat as she shakily pulled herself upright. She reached, desperately trembling fingers outstretched as Spike hurried the last few steps and caught her in his arms.

Solid. Not a ghost sent to taunt her.

Spike’s shirt crumpled in her fist, soft and faded and tangible. He was real. 

Faye buried her face in his chest and willed the reality to sink in.

_He’s real. I’m not alone. He’s real!_

Steady arms held Faye tighter as she cried. All she could think about was crying and breathing and blinking away visions of shattered glass and ice.

Spike murmured something in her ear, a question or a command; Faye was too light-headed to focus on the words. Blood pounded in her ears as she struggled to breathe. Her knees wobbled, but Spike held her weight easily.

_He’s real._

There was a sudden drop; one of Spike’s arms tucked around her side, the other under her knees, and Faye felt herself being lifted, cradled against his chest. She didn’t have the energy to protest.

She didn’t really want to.

The hall slowly passed by her teary-eyed vision. Faye kept a tight grip on Spike’s shirt as he ducked into her room.

_Stay real._

_Don’t leave me._

“Faye,” Spike murmured, chin nudging her forehead.

He was standing over her futon. “I’m going to set you down, alright?”

Faye still shook in his arms. She managed to choke out a single phrase.

“Don’t... leave.”

Spike was silent as he crouched, easing her carefully onto the futon. Frantically, Faye grasped his shirt harder, but Spike simply took her face in his hands.

“Faye, I’m just closing the door. I’m not going anymore. Just breathe.”

Faye blinked through tears, silently pleading with his eyes.

_Don’t leave me alone._

Spike held her gaze, firm and confident as he slowly pried her fingers from his shirt. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

With one last gentle nod he stood and turned, padding softly to the door. Faye couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her lips, but then Spike stopped, turning the light up just enough to see. He slowly shut the door and was back by her side in an instant. 

“Breathe, Valentine,” Spike murmured, guiding her to sit back against the wall. “Like you did before, with the seconds. In and out, remember? Just breathe.”

Faye hugged herself, unable to do much more as she tried to breathe slower. Her whole body ached from crying, but it took more than wishful thinking to stop.

Every couple of moments, she glanced bleary-eyed towards Spike, just to convince herself he was still there.

He was, every time, but he didn’t speak a word. He just remained at her side, leaning against the wall with one arm around her shoulders. His thumb absently stroking her shoulder.

At long last, the hitched gasps turned to steadier and steadier breaths, until Faye finally had enough energy to run a shaky hand through her hair.

“Tha-thank you,” she mumbled, biting her trembling lip.

Spike nodded, still silent. Though he held her, he hadn’t looked at her since sitting down. 

Now that she could think a little better, a new reality began to sink in, dreaded and unavoidable.

_I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. Not this time._

“S-Spike?”

Spike glanced at her with tired eyes. Faye wilted under his gaze, curling tighter in on herself. “Look, I… I tried… but... I couldn’t, and it’s t-too---”

“Faye.” 

His hand retreated from her shoulder. Spike sighed, pinching his nose. “Look, Faye---”

“Don’t… please.”

The words barely made it out before Faye’s throat closed on her again. Her chin quivered, her whole body trembling as she watched him.

Spike pursed his lips. “Will you just let me say what I was going to say? I’m not going to make you tell me whatever this is. I’m giving up on that fight.”

He crossed his arms, leaning heavily on his knees. “But I’m not just going to sit back and watch you lose it every other night and pretend nothing’s wrong in the morning. That shit doesn’t work, remember? So… I want you to try and face it.”

Faye’s heart dropped. “W-what?”

“Whatever’s bugging you… just sit and face it. Right here, right now. _Let_ yourself face it.”

“... I... can’t.”

Spike kept his eyes on the far wall. “So I was right,” he murmured. He leaned back against the wall, tilting his head slightly to watch her. “Have you tried?”

Slowly, Faye shook her head, her bottom lip trembling. “I… I _can’t_.”

“Yes you can. You _have_ to, if you want to stop seeing the same shit over and over again, and waking up… look, just let yourself think about it for ten minutes, alright? That breathing thing… it’s basically mediation, or as close as. Just sit and breathe. Don’t fight it.”

Faye hung her head. “Spike, you don’t… I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not alone.” He scooted closer. “Here… give me your hand.”

Without waiting for a reply, Spike gently reached around and gripped her hand. He laced their fingers together, resting their hands on the mattress between them. “Trust me, Faye. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Ten minutes. That’s all I’m asking."

That damnable kindness. Faye didn’t want to listen to it. 

But something in Spike’s voice, a stubbornness in his eyes softened her fight.

_Ten minutes… that can’t… be too hard…_

_Alright._

Faye closed her eyes, tears not even dry on her cheeks as she counted the seconds to breathe.

_Seven in, eleven out… let time slow…_

She sniffled, and Spike gave her hand a squeeze.

An anchor to the present, where she wasn’t alone.

But… she was, in a way.

That was the heart of it. The Bebop was her home, but she’d had a home before. A home, far away, with friends and neighbors, and… parents, who she’d been forced to leave behind by fate.

Faye Valentine, half a real name, a whole person, fully alone.

… Who really left who behind?

_Seven in… eleven out…_

Cracked glass. The artificial gravity, fading. Faye could see it all, though she’d tried to forget it. Just another reminder.

**_I_ ** _was the one left behind._

Faye bit her lip to stifle a sob, her hands clenching instinctively. In the dark behind her eyelids, Spike’s hand squeezed her again. Retaining her mind just enough in the present.

_“Trust me, Faye. I’m not going anywhere.”_

_Seven in… eleven out..._

Though still cautious, Faye allowed herself to replay the scene. To remember the emotions, not letting herself sink too deep in the memory.

Mostly, it was shock. That made sense. Wild, panicked confusion as around her, fellow passengers screamed and the emergency lights blared. She remembered hearing something, like an explosion, before the gravity generator failed. She was floating, _everyone_ was floating; there was so much noise, and then…

**_CRACK._ **

Then there was nothing.

No… not nothing.

it was cold. 

It was gradual, but… Faye could feel it. Cold and numb and fog, drifting together in her memories. There were moments she remembered, she’d tried to forget… the cold that encased everything.

A sudden flash, and then there was _pain_. Mixed with cold and fear and fog, there was excruciating pain. They’d… there were men, outside the glass, they were… who were they? Where was she?

The cryo chamber. A tube, filled with some liquid she didn’t know, surrounded by people she didn’t know. It was so quick, but she remembered it so vividly, the slicing cold, too freezing even to elicit a shiver.

You can’t shiver if you’re already frozen.

_Seven in…_

She was so fucking _cold_.

_Eleven out…_

Faye felt herself trembling in the ice. She couldn’t fight it.

She was going numb from the cold…

No. Not numb.

_Empty._

That was the feeling she feared. 

Faye shivered.

_Emptiness. The lack of anything, anything at all to prove I’ve existed._

_But… the past is behind me. I don’t have anything to go back to, anyway. It doesn’t matter anymore._

_I have... a future. That's all that matters._

_Why does this keep happening? I’m moving forward._

_My past is nothing but emptiness. Loneliness._

_Why won’t it let me go?_

_What’s the matter with me??_

_I don’t… I don’t want to be alone._

**_I don’t want to be alone._ **

_“As long as there are stars above you, my dear, you will never be alone.”_

Something changed. Dimly, she felt a touch, something stronger than the cold. Not much warmer, but enough to thaw a little of the ice. She reached for it, and held tight in her mind.

The numb and cold began to fade away. Warmth draped heavier across her shoulders. The warmth was light, and the light was soft. It tugged at her senses, reminding her of more feelings, more memories than just a frozen nightmare…

Without thinking, Faye reached for the feeling. She willed it to grow, let it caress her and remind her… yeah, the day before… the day before the accident.

A better day. A kinder day.

The memory flooded her mind like a hurricane. Every detail, all at once, crowding her consciousness. It was springtime, the house decorated with fresh flowers and smelling divine. Her mother perched delicately on the couch; she traded conspiratory glances with her father, who stood leaning by their antique radio. Light flooded through the french doors leading out into the back garden. Everything glittered from the rain they’d had that morning.

She gasped as they told her the news.

The gift for her birthday, before she headed off to university. A trip to the stars. Faye remembered tumbling around the house, practically squealing with delight. It’d been so long since they’d done something like this as a family; sure, it was partly for father’s business, but who gave a damn? They were finally going!

The stars. It was still new technology, but enough development had been made commercial and luxury flights were becoming common. Space flight was more novelty at this point, but Faye sought the _adventure._ The light, so far out of reach, and she’d damn well chase it.

Faye giggled with excitement. Her mother lightly admonished her, though there was no real annoyance. She could tell by the way the corner of her mouth quirked, just like Faye’s did. 

To the side, her father offered a rare smirk. His green eyes twinkled as he reached for the radio. A tune began to fill the room…

Oh god.

The _song._

The chorus.

… Still no words.

But the notes were there. Oh god, they were _there_. She felt them, a gentle beat so familiar… how could she have ever forgotten it?

Faye began to hum, a wide smile spreading across her face as her mother began to tap her foot to the tambourine. This was their song. 

A promise. Reassurance that she’d never be alone.

This memory was full of life. A life… she’d had torn from her.

_Don’t leave me behind._

A hollow ache sunk in the center of Faye’s chest. Her parent’s faces slowly began to fade. Faye felt tears streaming anew, but she kept humming, watched their faces until she couldn’t see them anymore. The room began to fade, and then the song followed it, and she was left alone again.

Alone, barely able to hold the echoes of the memory.

The feeling of the wall at her back lifted her back to reality.

Faye blinked slowly, readjusting to her room.

Somehow, Spike had managed to work a blanket around her shoulders. He still held her hand, his other arm wrapped around her shoulders holding her close. His thumb tapped a steady rhythm on her arm.

Faye sniffled, and the rhythm hesitated. Spike rested his chin on top of her head.

“Where are you?”

“Here,” Faye mumbled. 

He squeezed her gently. “Did it work?”

Faye pushed upright, digging the heel of her hand into her eyes. “... I don’t know.”

\----

It felt so backward. All of it. The dreams, the memories… everything. 

Why did it still hurt?

All this time, Faye had spent moving forward. She’d searched for her past, she’d _found_ it, and then she’d been content to leave it behind. 

Move forward. Forget the past, because it doesn’t matter. She didn’t want to be tied to the past.

She had a future. Here, on the Bebop, with these… weirdos.

So why?

Why did it suddenly matter so much that she remembered them?

She’d remembered their faces, before… but this memory held life in it. Real, purposeful _life_.

A connection she’d practically abandoned all attempts to recall.

And now that she had it… now that she felt it… she had no idea what to do with it.

_What good are these memories if I can’t get them back?_

_Mom… Dad…_

_Why did I have to be left behind?_

The memories of them felt good. Peaceful.

But in the same breath, it ached.

They were gone, and she was alone. Her parents she barely remembered… a potential life she’d lost.

_Why does it have to hurt still?_

_It’s not fair._

_It just doesn’t make sense._

_And I can’t just tell anyone. They’d think I was being ridiculous._

_It’s stupid._

_But… it felt nice, for a moment._

_For a moment... I didn't feel alone._

\----

Spike’s absent tapping on her arm had resumed in her silence. Faye sniffed, glancing towards his face. “What is that? What are you doing?”

“Your song. You were humming; just trying to keep the rhythm.”

Faye shifted, staring Spike full in the face. “You… you remember it?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Sing it.”

“Wha---”

Faye grabbed his face, desperation drawing her close. “Please… just sing it.”

Slowly, Spike eased Faye’s hands from his face and held them to the side. He searched her eyes, intense and quiet, before closing his own. His brow furrowed in concentration, and he began to hum.

Ten notes, soft and purposeful. Just loud enough to hear. Enough to remember, now that she was awake. Faye’s heart swelled, and she squeezed Spike’s fingers.

“Again. Please.”

He complied. It was a fairly simple tune, rise and falls and soft finale. She made him repeat it two more times, letting the notes wash over her.

Light. Reassurance.

_I’m not alone._

_\--- Without you._

When Faye fell silent after the fourth repetition, Spike cracked his left eye open. “You’re crying again.”

“Don’t care.” Faye forced a smile, releasing his hands to wipe at her own cheeks. “Th… thanks.”

Spike shrugged. “It’s your song.” 

With a hint of hesitation, Spike scooted a little closer, enough to bump shoulders. “That’s… _the_ song, isn’t it?”

Faye leaned back against the wall and nodded.

“You couldn’t remember it, so you bought a guitar to learn it?”

Her face burned as she nodded again. “Sort of… look, don’t be an asshole, I just couldn’t think of a better way, okay?”

Spike put up his hands defensively. “I wasn’t going to say anything, I swear.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. Good. Hey, er… I’m glad you remembered it.”

“... Thanks.”

Faye stared down at her fingers, all too aware of Spike pressed against her side.

_Now what? We agreed to try the night alone, but… even with remembering all that, I don’t… I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight. But… I can’t ask him to---_

“Faye?”

“Hm?”

“C’mere.”

Faye’s eyes widened as she followed Spike’s gesture. He pulled up the covers and motioned her closer. “I know we agreed to the night, but I said I wasn’t going anywhere, and… you’re exhausted. Let’s just get some sleep. Alright?”

“... Thank you.”

With some shuffling, they managed to wriggle under the covers. Faye curled on the mattress facing Spike, breathing a relieved sigh as he wrapped an arm around her side.

“Warm bodies?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, pressing her forehead to his neck.

“... You know you’re gonna have a massive headache in the morning.”

“Shut up and let me sleep.”

“Tch. That’s what I get for trying to be nice.”

Faye smirked, working her free arm around Spike’s side and pulling herself closer. It wasn’t long before her breathing deepened, lulled to sleep by warmth that could break through ice.

After all, she wasn’t alone.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a huge chunk of this chapter a while ago, and it feels like a breath of fresh air to finally get it ALL together. It's been a while since I've been exhausted writing a chapter, but it's that GOOD exhausted that means the emotions are hitting like they should as I write. Of COURSE the chapter has to be a huge chonker of a chapter as soon as I get my mojo back ;D I'll fucking TAKE it, tho.
> 
> This definitely feels like an Act 1.1 finale to me; I really never intended it to take this long to GET here, but each time I tried to move around a character they'd get in my way and say, "Hey, I got shit to set up to, you know!" They'll all have their moments, but this arc really began with me wanting to dig to Faye's core with her past, and I'm so fucking stoked to have finally reached this clincher. I thought about doing a bookend scene from Spike's perspective but I know whatever he has to say can wait until morning (literally ;P). This is Faye's chapter. She needed to take the full focus. Speaking of---
> 
> Her song! She's finally got it back! I've known what her song is since the get-go; it was one of the first things I decided when I started mapping shit out, and every time I listen to it while I write I definitely don't get teary (or filled with rage that I can't reveal it yet ;D). She's got the notes, and that's enough for her now. I have dropped a couple hints to the lyrics, and I would be damn impressed if someone pieces them together. It's okay if you don't! The reveal's gonna be a fun moment later on.
> 
> Thanks for reading, fam. Really, I fucking love this story and getting to share it with people is my favorite thing. Your comments for sure feed the writing beast, but even if you don't, you're still enjoying the story and that means a lot to me, too.


	13. The Kind Embrace of Denial

This felt familiar.

He was warm, and comfortable. Downright cozy, if he deigned to use such a word. Every breath came even and slow, each heartbeat at ease. A weight centered on his left side, making small adjustments to pull itself closer. All warmth, all gentleness. It reminded him of a dream, of a time long ago.

Spike sighed, drifting slowly back into consciousness. He lay on his back; the air against his face held the slightest chill, compared to warmth beneath the blanket. Fighting a yawn, he glanced to the side.

Faye was still out cold. Her arm rested limp across his chest, fingers tangled in his shirt. She nuzzled closer to his neck, her quiet snore the only break in the stillness.

Her hair draped across her face, obscuring Spike’s view. With delicate caution, he shifted a couple strands out of the way. Faye didn’t stir; her breathing remained calm, not an ounce of tension remaining from the night before.

No additional tears. No dreams to wake up from. Just warmth and peace.

Keeping as still as possible, Spike eyed the room until he spotted her clock. Still early. Knowing Jet, he’d be awake soon or was already up, cooking breakfast. With how deep in sleep Faye looked, it could be a while yet before she’d be up. There was more than enough time for him to slip out and back to his room without getting caught. 

_… Yeah, right. And leave her to wake up alone again._

From the moment he’d found her in the hall, he knew there was no option in leaving Faye alone. The wild panic he’d seen in her eyes was enough to convince him of that, but her pleading as he set her down… she’d been a real wreck. Better to let her wake up naturally than risk that panic again.

So Spike waited, listening to her breathing and watching out of the corner of his eye. 

_To think, such a simple tune would be the cause of all this._

Long after Faye’s breathing had deepened in sleep, Spike had lain awake, her song running on a loop through his mind. 

It must’ve been an old Earth tune, even in Faye’s time; he’d never heard it before. Soft and strange, it wasn’t at all the kind of song he was expecting, though to be honest he wasn’t sure _what_ he’d been expecting. It held a strange mixture of melancholy and comfort, a deep longing conveyed in a few simple notes.

Spike began to hum, quiet and low as the early morning. He felt Faye’s gentle sigh against his neck, the volume of the song not quite enough to wake her. Nor did she wake as he ran his fingers absently through her hair. Soothing actions, to keep her dreams peaceful.

After a while, his fingers caught in a small knot in her hair. Spike carefully worked it loose, examining the rest of her sleep-tousled head for similar tangles.

It was rare, if not impossible to catch Faye with her bangs down. They stuck out at odd angles now, choppy and uneven.

_I wonder if she cuts them herself._

There was so much he didn’t know. Hadn’t cared to know, until recently. But with every breath, he felt the pull, the desire to know more. 

_… Why does this feel so familiar?_

It was more than just holding her. More than just his curiosity. It was the gentle comfort, the security and contentment of the moment. To wake up and feel relieved at the safety of another. 

Spike knew. He didn’t want to admit it, but the sinking feeling in his heart revealed the truth. 

He remembered, like a dream, cold mornings waking up in her arms. Fleeting and whole, he remembered the touch of her skin, her eyes sparkling in daylight. Syndicate duties always tore them from each other eventually, but those mornings, brief as they were, existed in the reality he sought after, fought for for so long.

Fought for… and lost.

_No. Not now._

Spike clenched his eyes shut, hit suddenly by the pang of heartache. 

_Let it flow out._

This wave already felt harder to ride, but he fought it. Fought to focus on the world instead, on his senses.

Warm blankets. Cool air against his face. Faye’s choppy bangs against his cheek. 

_I’m here with Faye. True to my word, like I said I’d be._

Taking a deep breath, Spike opened his eyes to the darkened ceiling of Faye’s room.

_What’s gone is gone._

Movement drew his eye. Faye shifted, murmuring gently in her sleep. Spike studied her face, his fingers trailing once again through her hair. A gentle motion, grounding him to the present.

_It’s familiar, but they’re not---_ **_this_ ** _isn’t the same. I’m just warm and relaxed. I’m helping her, just like we agreed._

Spike knew that wasn’t quite the phrasing of the arrangement. He also knew that trailing his fingers through Faye’s hair steadied his heartbeat; while it didn’t erase his heartache, it brought the slightest sliver of comfort. Reminded him of a flickering feeling that sparked in little moments like this.

It wasn’t the same, but… it didn’t feel so terrible that it was familiar.

Spike chose to ignore all of these truths, focusing instead on turning his head, just to hear her breathing a little better. He allowed himself this moment, to enjoy the illusion of peace.

Peace for her benefit.

It was another ten minutes before Faye began to rouse. She sighed, eyelids fluttering on the brink of wakefulness. 

“Morning,” Spike murmured, remaining as still as possible. He removed his hand, letting it fall still to the side.

Faye yawned, running a hand through her hair. “Morni--- wait.” Her brow knit sluggishly. “You… you’re still here.”

Spike nodded. “Still here.”

“But…” Another yawn broke her train of thought as Faye rubbed the last of the sleep from her eyes. “But you’re always gone by the time I wake up.”

“Situation changed,” Spike countered. “You, uh… you better, this morning?”

Propping herself up on her elbows, she shrugged. Her gaze fell to the side. “I’m… yeah, I’m alright, I guess… god, my head hurts.”

“Told you.” Spike eased himself into a sitting position, carefully moving out of Faye’s space. “That’s what happens when you cry yourself delirious.”

Stretching his arms high, he readied himself for a snappy reply, but it never came. No words out of Faye was automatically a bad sign. Spike cringed, keeping his hands half-raised in defense. “Shit… I didn’t mean---”

Faye suddenly pressed a finger to his lips. “Shut up.”

“Wha?” Spike tried to bat her away, but her hand fully encased his mouth, effectively silencing him.

“I said shush!”

Faye’s eyes were clenched tightly shut. She bit her lip, deep in concentration. She remained silent for several minutes; Spike had almost decided to pry her hand away out of spite, when all at once she started humming. Short and quiet, and much faster a tempo than Spike remembered, but the notes were technically correct. Faye grinned as she opened her eyes. “I remembered it.”

He’d seen that expression before. Genuine delight, combined with a radiant sense of pride. So eager, so full of life. In a way, so completely out of time with the woman he knew.

This was the part of Faye he’d seen in that old tape, reawakened for just a moment.

There was fierce determination in her eyes as she continued to smile, removing her hand from his mouth. “I remembered it,” she repeated, a little quieter. Her gaze drifted down to her fingers. “... How did you know that would work last night? That it would help me remember?”

It took Spike a moment to find his voice. “I, uh… I didn’t. It just seemed like what you needed at the time.”

_Honestly, I just figured you’d spent enough time running away. Maybe given the chance… it might help you to stay put for once._

These thoughts didn’t pass further than his mind. Instead, he stood abruptly, careful as he stepped over Faye towards the door. “Listen, if you’re okay, then I’ve got to go. You know… so we don’t get caught.”

“Oh! Yeah, right… yeah.” Faye’s voice sounded disappointed behind him. It quickly turned bemused as she added, “Hey, Spike… were you playing with my hair?”

“... No.”

He ignored her snort of disbelief, hurrying to close the door.

_Why’d I hesitate? I wasn’t playing with her hair. I was… combing it. Barely. Just trying to keep her calm._

_There’s no way she felt that. She was bluffing. She had to have been bluffing, right?_

_I wasn’t playing with her hair. That’s ridiculous._

His inner monologue continued in much the same fashion as he brushed his teeth and pretended that the morning was entirely normal. He’d almost convinced himself it must have been a trick of the light, how bright her smile had seemed, as he wandered into the galley.

“Hey, Jet---”

But there was no Jet to greet him. The galley was empty, no sign of people or breakfast. Not even Ein, begging with his food dish in his mouth.

_Huh. That’s weird._

A pot of coffee sat on the stove, but when he went to pour himself a mug, he found it empty.

Grumbling, Spike refilled the pot and set it to boil. He’d barely waited a few moments before a noise caught his attention, drifting in from down the hall. Following the sound led him to the living room; it was voices, a half-heated argument coming from the bridge. He caught the very end of Ed’s exclamation as he reached the top step.

“--- easy-peasy!”

“Ed, no.”

Ed crossed her arms, perched like a bird on the very edge of the pilot’s seat. “Jet-person, _yes._ ” Her computer wobbled precariously atop her head. 

“What’s up?” Spike asked, kicking off the stairs to drift towards his crewmates.

Even from a distance, Jet looked exhausted. He leaned against the edge of the charting table, dark circles under his eyes. Punching something into the table’s display, his worried frown only deepened. A cup of cold coffee sat at the very edge of the table, forgotten.

_Looks like Faye’s not the only one who had a rough night._

Jet barely took a moment to nod towards Spike, not taking his eyes off the table. “Ed’s trying to send me to an early grave.”

“Ed is not!” she pouted. “Ed is just thinking ahead.”

Ein lay curled to the side. As Spike drew closer, it almost looked as if he rolled his eyes. If dogs were capable of doing that.

Ed waved Spike forward, pointing up at her computer. “Spike-person will agree with me, won’t you, won’t you?”

Spike clamped by hands on either side of Ed’s head, holding her steady as he examined the display. Three individuals with wildly colored hair and bright matching flight suits stared back at him from her computer screen. “Depends. Who are they?”

“New bounty heads, meany crooks for Bebop---”

“No, they’re not. Ed, I told you, just because they’re friends of Walker’s does not mean they’re also criminals.” Jet pinched his nose, wearily meeting Spike’s confused look. “They don’t actually have bounties on them.”

Ed lifted a finger, eyes bright with mischief. “Yet.”

“What does that even mean? Ugh, never mind. We’ve already got enough to deal with, I can’t add your weird vendetta to the list. Spike, how much do you know about this area?”

Spike stuck his hands in his pockets, peering curiously over Jet’s shoulder. The readout showed a portion of Mars’ surface, detailing maps of several crater cities. The computer normally reserved for researching bounties had migrated to the edge of the map; it displayed what looked to be several police briefings and local news reports of one particular city. 

After a moment of examining the map, Spike shrugged. “Not much. Cassini,” he gestured to the largest crater, “is more like one big resort than a city. Never been there myself; it’s, ah, always been outside my pay grade. The surrounding craters don’t really have much to offer, besides living in Cassini’s shadow. This isn’t near any old Dragon territories, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A fraction of tension eased from Jet’s shoulders. “Good. At least we’ve got that going for us. Is Faye up?”

“Dunno. Haven’t seen her yet.”

_… Did I say that too fast?_

Apparently not, because Jet turned to a side monitor without comment. He began scrolling through the Bebop’s inventory. “Alright, when she gets up… shit, we’ve only got so much for fuel… food can wait until the drop off, that’ll give us enough time… yeah, I think we can make it.”

He continued mumbling to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. Spike side-eyed Ed; still pouting, she offered no explanation. “Make what? Does this have to do with what the doc said last night?”

Jet waved away his question, still absently punching through the readout. “It’ll be easier to explain when we’re all together. Do you know how to pilot the Redtail?”

Spike snorted. “I’m sure I could figure it out, but what---”

“Good, because I’ll need Faye on hand for the drop. Unless… no, I could use the back up.”

“What’s all this?”

Spike glanced towards the stairs. Now fully dressed, Faye stood at the railing, a cup of coffee in her hands. Her jacket was pulled up all the way around her shoulders. It was subtle, but she nodded at him, tilting her mug gratefully.

Ed swiveled in her seat. “Faye-Faye! New bounty for Bebop, Faye-Faye!”

“Already? Is it any good?”

“No! Stop saying that!” Jet groaned, pinching his nose. “Faye, how many missiles does the Redtail have on hand?”

She blinked in surprise. “Sheesh, good morning to you, too. Not many; I’ve been meaning to restock soon---”

“You’ll restock today. I don’t want to take any chances while we’re in Mars airspace.”

“Hold on a second, pard,” Spike insisted, grabbing Jet by the arm. “Will you just stop and explain what’s going on?”

Jet met his eyes with a weary but determined look. “I set up the drop with doc last night. The more I’ve thought about it, the less I like it, so I’m changing the plan a little. We’re leaving for Mars today. As soon as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ShadowcrestNightingale for beta-reading another chapter! Also hi, it's been a while!
> 
> This is defo one of those chapters I may come back to, but for my own sake, I'm putting it out into the world now just to get it off my mind. The original draft of this chapter was a lot more condensed, but something wasn't sitting well with the pacing for me, so I decided to split it up a bit. As Shadowcrest will be able to identify, it was a lot more plot heavy, but I think it flows better to have it this way and give the plot the space it needs to fully happen... next chapter.
> 
> I'm an overthinker, and I've done a wild amount of overthinking this arc. So much to do, so much to write, but I've gotten caught so much on pacing that I triple-think how much I need to put into one chapter. I've reached a eureka moment (I think for probably the fifth time now) that it doesn't matter and I should write what I want at the pace that I need to ;D Still, it's important to have that eureka moment, and remember that it's all in the process, you know?
> 
> I had fun writing this chapter, and that meant a lot to me. Spike and Faye getting that sweet sweet growth while also being wildly in denial? Fuck yeah, that is my SHIT. But there's still a lot under the surface. There's more they need to explore, and talk about; the tiniest crack has been opened in both their walls, and maybe (just FUCKING MAYBE) they'll get to a point where the crack won't be painful ;D
> 
> Thanks for reading, fam! Chapter titles are so hard.


	14. Martian Mayhem

Three sets of eyes widened in unison. Even Ein huffed in surprise.

“Today?” Faye found her voice first. “What do you mean, today?”

“What the hell do you think I mean? I don’t like it, either, but it’s all a part of the plan.”

“ _What_ plan? What are you talking about?”

Spike crossed his arms; his eyes remained fixed on Jet. “You said it’d be easier to explain when we were all together. We’re all here now, so tell us what the hell’s going on.”

Jet turned back to the table with a sigh. “... Alright. You’re going to have to bear with me for a bit, here.”

He turned to the computer, pulling up a different set of reports on the screen. “Apparently it’s more complicated on Mars than we thought. Ever since the Dragons fell, there’s been an increase in street violence in Tharsis and the surrounding cities. Smaller gangs making bids at joining the big league syndicates and shit like that. The ISSP and local police have had a rough time keeping it under control.

“Half a dozen biotech facilities have been hit over the past two months as a part of the takeover attempts. That’s why the doc hasn’t been able to contact us until now; his lab got hit two weeks ago, and the poor bastard’s been in hiding. He barely made it to the clinic to warn them. They moved their entire operation in a matter of days, just in time before their old building got hit, too.”

Faye circled to the far side of the map. A cocktail of incredulousness and unease flashed in her eyes. “Great. And you want to go there as soon as possible? You’ve really lost it, Jet.”

“I’m not stupid, Faye,” he snapped. “It’s more complicated than that. For now, doc thinks they’re safe. They’ve found a new base in Pasteur City, near Cassini. Most of their funding was shot due to relocating, but they’ve found a sponsor that’s willing to fund their research given a convincing enough pitch. Unfortunately, that pitch involves a chunk of their research that they... don’t actually have at the moment.”

Spike’s fingers tapped restlessly against his arm. “Let me guess. The pod?” 

“Exactly. They have other biotech they’ve been developing but the information they have on that pod is their clincher to settle the deal. They have until the end of the week to meet with their potential sponsor, so we made a plan to drop off the pod on the day of.”

Something about the whole situation felt off. Spike could feel it, and from the look on Jet’s face, he felt it too. “I don’t like this, Jet. Do we know anything about their sponsor? Can they be trusted?”

Jet shrugged, brow furrowed. “Some facility out of Cassini. A hospital, I think, but the sponsor wanted to remain as anonymous as possible.” He side-eyed Spike. “And trust me, I know this whole business stinks, but I’m tired of holding onto the pod. Better to be done with the whole thing sooner than later.

“That tech saved your life, and I’m grateful for it, but now… I just want the damn thing off my ship. That’s why we’re leaving today. It’ll take us a couple days to hop to Mars, but I’ve already got their location. We’ll get in and out quick, ahead of schedule. Leave without a chance of meeting the third party, whoever they are.”

That didn’t put Spike’s nerves at ease, but he knew that look. Jet’s mind was already made up; whether or not the plan was a good one wasn’t up for debate. 

“Now,” Jet gestured to Faye, “I want to be up in the air as soon as possible, so please don’t argue and just get your ship restocked and back as quickly as possible.”

She glanced up, cocking a brow. “What for? We’re just going to dump the thing and run, right?”

“Call it extra security. I’ll need your help moving it from the hangar; Spike can be on standby in the Redtail in case something goes wrong. It _shouldn’t_ , but… just in case. You got a problem with that?”

Despite the situation, Spike fought to hide a grin. The only person besides her allowed to touch the Redtail was Jet, and that was only so he could fix it when she broke it. Sure, she’d offered him a joyride, but that was out of pity. To give him full permission to bust out the guns on her ship? Un-fucking-likely---

“Fine.”

Spike blinked in surprise. He glanced towards Jet, who looked equally as shocked. “You… really?”

Faye shrugged, glancing between them. “If he scratches it, he pays for it.”

_Ah. There it was._

Jet rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Now,” he began, making his way towards the stairs, “let’s get going. I want to get this whole thing over with.”

“Hey, Jet?” Faye fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, putting on her best wounded puppy face. “I, ah, might be a little broke. For real, this time.”

Jet stopped dead in his tracks. After a moment of silence, during which Spike imagined he was seriously contemplating committing a crime, he nodded. “I’ll lend you some from my account.”

Faye perked up instantly. “Really?”

“Sure. I’ll just take it out of your share when we deliver the pod, plus interest for your fuel.” Jet resumed his march down the stairs, unaware of Faye glaring daggers at his back. “It’s a miracle they’re actually keeping up their end of the bargain, with all that’s been going on. Now come on! We’re on a tight schedule.”

Spike allowed himself a real smirk. This felt more like a normal morning on the Bebop; he could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. 

“That’s real thoughtful of you, Faye,” he said, casually stepping beside her. 

She shifted her glare to Spike, who grinned even wider. Before she could speak, however, a small hand shot up between them.

“Mm-mm!” Ed squinted between them, lip jutted out in a pout. “Remember, remember!”

_Aw, shit. No fighting._

That couldn’t possibly count as fighting. Antagonizing, maybe, but not fighting. It would only count as fighting if she shot back with something.

Faye’s eyes narrowed further. She glanced down at Ed, before returning to Spike. Then, in an unexpected turn of events, she smiled. Well, arguably it was more like a grimace. 

“Yeah, that _was_ very thoughtful of me,” she forced through clenched teeth. “Thank… you… for _noticing_. Well… Uh… yeah. I’ll see you later, then.”

“Uh… okay?”

Faye nodded before hurrying down the stairs after Jet, grumbling under her breath. Spike stared after her, speechless.

_… That was the weakest save I’ve ever seen. Is Ed going to buy that?_

One glance at Ed confirmed it; she nodded shortly in approval. Spike closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief, almost immediately cut short by a jab to his side.

“Ed did not miss Spike’s sarcasm,” she hissed, glaring up at him. “Spike-person is on thin ice.”

Spike rubbed his side. “Alright, alright, jeez. Don’t do that again.”

“Don’t start cheeky bicker-banter, and Ed won’t have to,” she shot back, sticking out her tongue.

Spike turned towards the forward windows. He watched the Hammerhead take off, speeding across the water towards town. A few moments later, the Redtail followed.

_So we’re heading to Mars today. With little notice, under suspicious as hell circumstances. On top of that, Faye and I have our own tiny nanny watching our every word._

_Great. This’ll be_ **_real_ ** _fun._

Spike spun on his heel; he might as well get one last breath of fresh air before they got back. And his morning smoke was long overdue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,  
> Thank you for reading. Writing is so hard. Coming up with chapter titles is hard. My brain feels like it is the size of a crouton. BUT I am still doing my best to pull this story together, and I am endlessly grateful for your patience as I stumble my way through a comprehensive plotline.  
> This is the Plot Dump chapter. I won't lie, I struggled with it because it feels a lot different to my other chapters, because it's so..... Things Happening Heavy. Looking back at my other chapters, I really enjoyed spending time delving into the characters thoughts and feeling out what they were thinking for different actions and changes, but this.... this one was rough. The characters didn't have a lot of thoughts to give me other than "there sure is a nice plot you got there." And so I just had to sit myself down and say "okay I'm going to have a plot dump chapter. I will get some funnies in but for the most part I understand it's a plot chapter and that's okay." Hopefully it's followable and hopefully this will release me from the torment of asking myself "Is It Good Enough?"  
> Learning any skill is a process. If I were learning how to carve a duck, I would compare this chapter to the "well technically it has a beak and a shape that resembles a body" part of the process. And that's okay! As the plot progresses, I'm hoping it gets easier to balance and express without Expositioning the shit out of everything. Maybe someday when this arc is done, I'll go back and revise and make it..... with more character thoughts involved :P
> 
> This is technically the second half of that chapter ShadowcrestNightingale betaread, so thank you again for the helps :D
> 
> I'm going to let my crouton brain get some rest for a bit, but hopefully the chapters will be smoother sailing from here. Thanks again for reading!


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